Jötunnheimr
by aylithe
Summary: Loki was taken back by Jötunnheimr after Thor's assault on the realm. Thrust into a new and terrifying world of monsters, Loki must overcome his prejudices if he ever wants to truly feel at peace with himself. And to do so, he must love, lie, face betrayals and come to grips with his new family on his path. Jötunn!Loki. Eventual parings of Loki/Sigyn & Thor/Sif. Beta reader needed.
1. Part One: Once – Chapter One: Bad Blood

**Hello. So, I like jötunn!Loki. A lot. And I've always been really intrigued by the idea of the "what if?" part of if he had to be integrated back into jötunn society if he was given the chance. I know there are so many fics about what would happen out there, but, forgive me when I say this, I think a lot of them aren't too well done, a.k.a., the characters are so out of character I cry even more than I do at all the facts Marvel has changed about the mythology, from genderbend to entire family trees. Either he gets over it so very quickly he's perfectly happy within two weeks, or Laufey and Co. treat him with so much fluff and kindness you could choke several unicorns upon it.**

**Here we go, and I hope you enjoy and that many unicorns may be preserved.**

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**_ONCE,_**_ there were two brothers who thought the worlds of each other. Once, they would have fought through fire and blood if it meant the other would have been safe. Once, they would have sacrificed their lives in the place of the other. Once they trusted each other with all their hearts. _

_But Once was a long time ago, and things change between Once and Now. _

_Once, they followed each other into the jaws of the wolf, and the result is Now._

_Now, they would end each other._

* * *

_**PART ONE – ONCE**_

**CHAPTER ONE**

* * *

**RAW PANIC CLAWED **AT HIS INSIDES. Loki stood, transfixed and oblivious to the battle around him as he looked to his arm. The jötunn he had been fighting had caught him, the cold of his flesh destroying the fine armour he wore to expose the pale skin beneath. Skin that hadn't burned in pain, but something far more terrifying had assaulted Loki's mind. It felt … _right_, the unnatural, deep blue colour his skin had turned.

That feeling was what had spared the jötunn's life for those few more seconds. Loki looked up wildly to find the jötunn looking at him flatly, a hint of confusion in his bloody eyes. Loki gripped his dagger tightly and drove it forcefully into the jötunn's chest; the monster fell backwards with a choke. Loki hated himself for admitting the feeling felt good, that when his skin returned to its normal colour it felt tight and uncomfortable, but the confusion and panic that flooded his mind he couldn't cope with at that instant. Volstagg had suffered under jötunn fingers, so why hadn't he?

A shout of pain brought him back to his senses. He whipped around, heart thudding as he saw Fandral, Fandral who he thought was uncouth and despicable, impaled by a spike of ice which had pierced him through the shoulder. The warrior's easy smile had vanished in a second, his sword clattering from his slack hand and onto the ice.

The jötunn who had stabbed him marched forth, readying his ice blade to finish the job. Loki cursed, pulling a knife from his belt which he sent forth with a flick of the wrist. It sliced through the air and embedded itself into the jötunn and the monster was thrown back. "Thor!" he hollered. "We must go!"

Fandral was lifted off the spike by Volstagg and Hogun as his brother, the Thunderer Thor, bellowed, "Then go!"

Thor was a terrifying figure to behold in the heat of battle. Tall; golden; fierce; strong; perfect. The boyish eagerness which he fought the jötnar around him, the utter sociopathic mindset at the slaughter, wasn't present in his friends and brother now. The others – Loki, Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun and the Lady Sif – had had enough fun from the moment they had stepped onto the Bifröst Bridge back in Asgard; well, Loki had, at least.

Thor threw his hammer, Mjøllnir, through the jötnar, clearing a path for his brother and friends to run through back towards the Bifröst site. They took the opening and, with Fandral slung across Volstagg's huge shoulders, ran across the open ice to the Bifröst.

"Thor—" Sif said sharply, looking back at her friend, but Loki cut across her.

"Leave him; he'll be fine!"

She threw Loki a look, a look of betrayal and anger, but he ignored it. He was used to looks like that.

"Sif, Loki is right," Hogun said. He swung his mace at an oncoming jötunn and the creature stumbled away, howling in pain and anger as the weapon caught his arm and was soon ripped away along with a chunk of blue-grey flesh. "Thor will be able to get himself out of this."

Sif's reluctance at leaving Thor behind was clear in her body language, but Loki had no time to dwell on it. A twinge ran through his gut as the ground jolted under him, so much so he almost stumbled with the unset of balance. Hogun's hand flew to his shoulder to steady him, but he threw it off irritability; did they really think he needed their help?

A roar punctuated the air. Loki whipped around, fear igniting in his chest as he saw some beast, some huge monster which he had taken only as a mere statue of Laufey's was moving. Ice fell from its tough leathery looking hide as it shook itself. It was a bulky thing, its shoulders all muscle and blunt spikes running along its back. Huge teeth lined its mouth, and upon its feet were equally sharp claws. The tail was heavy and spiked like a mace. Its small red eyes fixed upon the small party of Æsir and it roared once again before charging after them.

"Run!" Loki snapped.

No one needed to be told twice. They all ran as fast as they could. Loki streaked ahead of them, feet hardly slipping on the ice whilst the others tripped and stumbled behind him. He could feel the heavy footfalls of the thing behind them and he gave a sharp look over his shoulder to see it gaining on them, eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring.

"Thor!" Sif screeched.

And, then, as miraculously as if he had heard them, Thor acted. Loki couldn't see him personally, but one would be hard pressed to miss the lightning as it streaked down from the sky and the _crack!_ as the icy ground was shattered beneath the Thunderer's feet. Loki choked as he felt a wrench in his gut, a sharp painful tug and he cried out in sheer surprise. He fell then, tumbling over and over as the pain made itself almost unbearable. The snow in his mouth and eyes only added to his sense of panic even more and he struggled to get back up, but that _pain_.

"Loki!"

Arms scooped him up and he was dimly away of his cheek against the cold metal of Hogun's armour as they continued to run. He would have dearly liked to protest at the way he was being borne back to the Bifröst, but he was in too much pain to really care. He cracked open an eye and saw, to his delight, the beast that had been chasing after them fall suddenly. A crack, something like an earthquake, seemed to have opened under its feet. It swung its tail, the spikes burying themselves into the ice in an attempt to stop its fall, but it slipped. It was swallowed it into the bowels of the planet and it fell with a roar of frustration.

Loki heard Fandral laugh weakly. "It's gone," he whispered hoarsely. "We're home free."

"It's … it's not gone," Loki hissed through gritted teeth.

"Of course it is," Volstagg said dismissively.

"No," Loki choked, squeezing his eyes shut. "I just know … that's not the last we've seen … of it."

"Heimdallr!" Volstagg bellowed as they skidded to a stop at the Bifröst site. "Open the bridge!"

A claw, a huge wicked looking claw landed in front of them. They started back, watching with horror as the beast pulled itself up the cliff face, looking at them all with undisguised contempt. If the situation wasn't as dire as it was, Loki would have laughed and said "Told you so, Idiots Three".

The beast rose, settling itself on its hind legs as it reared skyward. Sif muttered a short prayer as she brandished her sword, Volstagg his axe single-handedly and Loki snapped to Hogun, "Put me down."

He was set on his feet and, one arm wrapped around his midriff, called forth a dagger from the negative space and armed himself with it; Hogun twirled his mace in hand. But before they could so much as twitch, a flying blur of red and silver raced overhead and smashed into the beast's mouth. It teetered for a second before it fell off the edge of the cliff, and Thor landed in front of them. He turned, a grin plastered firmly on his face, but it faltered as whatever it was behind them caught his eye.

Loki turned and saw that, whilst they had been occupied, several dozen Frost Giants had advanced on them. They studied them with those crimson eyes of theirs and Loki flinched as he recognised Laufey at the front. There was something in his eyes, something on his face which made Loki readjust the grip on his dagger and attempt to straighten up as much as possible. That look of scrutiny on his face….

The jötnar started forwards, weapons raised and ready for use, but an echo of power reached their ears; a flash of light and, to Loki's relief, the Bifröst opened. But it wasn't for them to jump back to Asgard in a great escape, but it was to deposit another.

From the bridge materialised a horse, a huge, dark grey charger with eight legs upon which sat Odin Allfather. He was wearing full battle armour and held Gungnir aloft in his hand.

"Father!" Thor bellowed, his smile returning to his face at once. "We'll finish them together!"

"Silence." Odin's hiss was cold, and Thor's grin dropped just as quickly as it had come back.

The ice cracked and crunched as Laufey summoned himself a perch of ice and he rose himself up to Odin's eye level. He looked at him with calculating, hooded eyes as he smiled. "Allfather; you look weary."

"Laufey," Odin acknowledged.

"Your boy sought this out," Laufey rumbled.

"You're right, but they are the actions of a boy; treat them as such. You and I can end this here and now, before there is further bloodshed."

Loki shivered as Laufey's gaze flicked to him once again. He thought he saw Odin stiffen from the corner of his eye, too.

"Perhaps we may be able to resolve some of the situation," Laufey mused. "Who is he?"

"He is no one of importance," Odin admonished, and Loki felt a stab of anger. No one of importance?! How dare he say that?!

"Then, you will not object to this: I saw him fight, and I saw something … strange happen."

Loki choked on his breath. Norns, he hadn't seen his arm, had he? He subconsciously hugged it to himself, unwilling to meet Laufey's gaze as the jötunn king advanced on him slowly, deliberately. "Get away," Loki snarled.

"So rude for one of Asgard," Laufey said, laughing softly.

"Laufey, leave him be," Odin said sharply.

"Allow me to at least satisfy my curiosity, Allfather, against this person of unimportance," Laufey said. He touched a finger to Loki's cheek, and he flinched back from the contact. Again, there was that sense of _rightness_ that overcame him where Laufey's finger was, and he hated it. Hated it to the very centre of his being.

Laufey hissed and his eyes widened. "You thief!" he roared, whirling around to Odin and storming to him. "After all these years of silence, and you come back with _this_?!"

Loki's stomach dropped. He didn't understand what was going on. He looked up imploringly to Thor's friends, desperately looking for some sort of answer, but they were staring at him with horror. Sif's hand flew to her mouth and Hogun's grip on his mace tightened.

_"What is it?!"_ Loki wanted to scream at them, but he was too shocked into silence to do anything other than stand there.

"You want to end this without any further bloodshed?" Laufey fumed. "I will do this if, and only if, you pay my price, and my price is him."

"No," Loki spluttered. Him, stay here on Jötunnheimr? He was confused, angry, and searching desperately amongst their faces for answers. And finally, finally, he looked at his father and brother. Odin's face was impassive, his eye on Loki hard and unforgiving, but Thor … Thor looked stunned, angry, hurt and just as confused as Loki felt.

"You can't," Thor said. "Father, we cannot leave my brother here."

"'Brother'?" Laufey asked, stunned. "He is just as much your brother as I am. The lines of his house speak as much."

"Lines? What lines?" Thor spluttered.

"The lines of the House of Laufey."

"No." Loki shook his head and took a step back. "I have no house lines; I am of no relation to you. You're deluded!"

"No, you are." Laufey towered over Odin and hissed, "If it is peace you wish for, then this is it. Leave now, leave my son with me, and you will live to fight another day."

"I'm not your son!" Loki howled. "I'm not!" He found his father again, waiting for him to chastise Laufey on his mistake, but Odin wouldn't meet his eye. "No. Father, please…."

"So be it," Odin whispered.

"Father, no!" Thor shouted, but Odin only raised Gungnir high. The Bifröst opened again and took away Odin, Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three. Only Loki was left behind, a scream on his lips as he looked to where his father had vanished.

* * *

#

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"**LET** ME GO, you monsters!" Loki gasped. He thrashed in the grip of the Frost Giants, kicking and writhing as they made their way back to the temple's throne.

"Be still, my prince," one growled.

"I am not your prince!" Loki snarled wildly. He tore at them with his teeth and nails, but they were too big, their grips on him too tight and he couldn't get a good footing.

"Enough," Laufey ordered.

"You can't order me to do shit, monster!" bellowed Loki.

Laufey paused and turned to look at Loki. He knew he had gone too far with that, and he shrunk back as Laufey advanced on him.

"Monster, am I?" Laufey mused. "Well, then, let us remedy that view." He towered over Loki as he was dropped on the floor. After all the running, all the desperation to get back to the Bifröst site, he was back here and kneeling before this monster king's throne. "I am no monster, as you are no monster. To me, you are a jötunn with the views of savages."

"I am not jötunn," Loki spat.

"Take his cloak," Laufey commanded. "Take his clothes until his instinct takes over and he shifts."

"Get off!" Loki cried as the jötnar tore his cloak from his shoulders. Instantly the cold was much more noticeable and he shivered. He stuck his hands under his armpits and curled into a ball to conserve body heat.

"Nothing?" Laufey said. "Take the overcoat and armour off. And his gloves and shoes, too."

Loki thrashed and squirmed as the jötnar moved to obey their king. His only remaining glove and boots were jerked from his hand and feet and his other clothes were taken as well. Soon, his only article of clothing was his leather trousers. He was shivering violently now, rocking back and forth in an effort to stay warm and his teeth clacked together.

Laufey tutted. "I am growing tired of your stubbornness. Change; now." But Loki could not change; he had nothing to change into. He sat, shivering and refusing to look at any of them. He would not bend. "So be it." Before Loki could spit even a word at him, Laufey laid a hand on the back of his neck.

The cold nearly made him black out and something in his chest broke. He gasped as he felt some change come over him, and it was _painful_. Loki could not help but howl with pain and he curled in on himself, clawing at his skin in a desperate attempt to relieve the agony, but there was nothing he could do. But after the initial wave of pain, the cold started to feel less distance, even pleasant as the sensation of change spread from his core to his arms and legs. He was growing as well, his height shooting up and his trousers felt tight, the seams straining around his calves and thighs and his belt dug into his hips. His teeth were elongating, thickening and Loki felt them with his tongue; each tooth felt like it had been filed to a point and his canines had lengthened. But the worst feeling was upon his brow. His hands went to his head and he whimpered as he felt his skull stretching, changing shape as new bone formed from under his fingers. It curved up, stretching higher and higher as a set of horns grew upon his head.

Laufey released him and Loki fell to the floor, gasping for breath as the rest of the pain abated. He felt his stomach heave and he fought down the vomit rising in his throat. He spat onto the ground.

"You haven't done that for a long time, have you?" Laufey said from above him. "Odin's spell had its claws in you, but you are free of it, now."

"Fuck you," Loki gasped, moving to his hands and knees; his legs were still shaking too much to be able to stand up. He choked as he heard his voice, a hand going to his throat at the gravelly texture of it. It was like Laufey's own, now. "What is this?" he whimpered.

"Stand," Laufey said.

Loki looked at him furiously, neck cricking at the extra weight of the horns he had to lift.

"You look like your mother," Laufey said unexpectedly, his voice quiet.

"I don't care," Loki said weakly. "Let me go."

"Let you go to where? To Asgard?" Laufey growled. "No."

"You've made your point," Loki said bitterly. "So release me."

Laufey snarled and, so fast Loki couldn't draw back, reached out and grabbed one of his horns. Some instinct screamed at him to keep still. He went limp, shivering in fear as Laufey pulled him to his feet. Loki had a little difficulty getting his feet under him, what with the new height adjustments. Now he stood only half a head shorter than Laufey, he noticed, and he closed his eyes. No. He couldn't be at eye level with Laufey. It wasn't possible.

"Get. Off," he said venomously.

"I won't until you acknowledge that you aren't going anywhere. Run to the other side of Jötunnheimr, if you will, but Asgard is not your home. You are not going back."

"Do you forbid it?" Loki asked mockingly. "You're going to stop me from going back?"

"I won't because you cannot go back, no matter how much you want to," Laufey said, his voice low and dangerous. "The Bifröst is now the only way to get off of this realm since the Casket has been taken from us."

"You're lying," Loki growled, eyes sliding open to glare at Laufey. "You—are—_lying_. I could go right now and demand Heimdallr to take me back."

"Try if you want, but I suspect he will not listen."

"I am his prince, not yours, and he is sworn to obey my commands!" Loki thundered. He jerked away from Laufey's grip, wincing as the bone shifted subtly against their moorings in his skull. Ah, so that was why he had gone still. As the small movement, lights exploded in front of his eyes and he fell to the ground, holding his head and moaning as he waited for the sudden pain to pass. He reverted back to his normal form, shrinking at once and the air bit at his bare flesh. He felt stuffed into his skin, now, but he ignored the discomfort. He would not change back, no matter the cold, no matter if the world was so much darker now because of his poorer eyesight, and not matter if he was ridiculed—

Ridiculed? Why would he care? He howled in frustration and confusion, punching the ground savagely as curses rolled off his tongue. He punched again, savouring the crack of ice and stone beneath his knuckles. Again and again he hit the ground as hard as he could and soon, his hands were bloody and his throat sore from yelling.

"What do you want from me?" Loki croaked finally. "Just what do you want from me?"

"I don't want anything," Laufey told him. "You are jötunn, and it's about time you accepted who and what you are."

"You don't even know my name," Loki said furiously. "Do you even care?"

"Loki."

Laufey's voice was quiet, but Loki heard it over the winds swirling through the place. He closed his eyes tightly, fighting the lump in his throat.

"Your name is Loki, Loki … Laufeyson."

"I am not your son," Loki growled.

"No matter how much you deny it, it is the truth. The lines of your house cover your skin, and you bear the horns of the royal family. It is the truth, and you can't run from it."

He hated the tears of utter helplessness that stung at his eyes and they froze against his lashes, but he refused to wipe them away. But they did not fall. He would not let them fall.

"Destroy his warm things; he needs to learn what his true skin is, and he will have to if he wants to survive."

* * *

#

* * *

**THOR** WAS ON a rampage. His temper was nothing compared to what it had been after the coronation. The royal wing of Glaðsheimr was slowly being smashed to pieces, and if one wanted to find the Thunderer, they had only follow the bull elephant roars.

"How could you do such a thing?!" Thor bellowed. He took up a chair and threw it against the wall where it cracked and shattered.

Odin sat unmoving, his fingers interlaced and his chin resting on them as he stared broodingly into the fire crackling in the grate.

"Loki's my brother, and you gave him away! You just gave him to Laufey! And why? For the sake of peace!"

"It was the only way," Odin said bluntly.

"I don't care! You should have thought of some other way to abate Laufey!" Thor hollered. "And because of your insolent want of peace, Loki is trapped on Jötunnheimr with no way back because you ordered Heimdallr to ignore him if he calls! _What sort of father does that to his own child?!_"

"I am not his father by blood, Thor," Odin explained calmly, patiently, "and he is not your brother by blood, either."

"He's as good as," Thor spat, eyes livid.

"His father demanded him returned, and that was something I could not deny," Odin continued, still infuriatingly calm.

"And you are not his father in spirit, then?!" Thor demanded.

"Peace demands sacrifices of us all, sometimes," Odin said. "This is ours, and although your anger and hurt blinds you, you will come to see why this decision was the wisest."

"It was a coward's decision," Thor growled. "If you were the father you wished to be, you would have fought tooth and nail to keep Loki here. He is suffering because of you; don't you dare deny that you didn't see and hear him pleading for you when you pulled us away from Jötunnheimr."

"And don't you deny that it doesn't rip my heart in two," Odin snapped, his patience finally wearing thin. He stood and Thor backed away on instinct. "As a king, you must make difficult decisions, and this today was the most difficult I have made in my life."

"A decision which only took a few seconds to mull over; it surely couldn't have been that important," Thor sneered.

"A decision I had to make for the greater good," Odin said viciously. "War with Jötunnheimr is the last thing both of our races need. You don't know the cost of life war demands, and both sides are still recovering from the last war. And think on this, Thor: if your rash decisions hadn't been made today, you wouldn't have lost your brother! And I hate that the price of your idiocy was the cost of the one thing you hold so dear to yourself."

Thor was shocked into silence. He clenched his fists, hating that the words were true.

_"Thor, it's madness."_

_"Thor, stop and think; look around you; we're outnumbered."_

_"Thor! We must go!"_

Thor. Thor. Thor….

"You never cared for him," Thor whispered darkly. "He always felt second best under your eye, always felt like the extra addition to the family, and he always was trying to win your approval, but you ignored him. And now I know why: because of his parentage. You're despicable."

Odin said nothing.

"You don't even try to deny it, do you?!" Thor shouted. "Say you're wrong, give me a slap around the face, crush me with Mjøllnir, do anything to tell me that I'm wrong in what I have just said, now. _Do it!_"

But Odin did nothing. After a long pause, he said in a low voice, "Thor, I command you as your father and as your king, that you are not to go looking for him. Am I understood?"

"No."

"Am I understood?"

"Father—"

"Am I understood?!" Odin roared.

Thor lifted his chin. "I refuse to acknowledge your order."

"On your head be it," Odin said monotonously.

* * *

**Loki being a runt doesn't really work with the story, so he's a bit short for the jotnar if nothing. It's an AU, I can do it.**

**I want this to be longish, and I hope I can stick with it. Thanks for reading!**

_**—aylithe**_


	2. Chapter Two: Prince Returned

**Thank you so much for all the follows! It was far more than I was hoping for! Here's the next chapter! I guess I'm just so excited for the new _Loki: Agent of Asgard_ comic I'm writing super fast; it looks so cool~ I'm gonna have to go and get one of those gift cards in the next few days so I can download it when it comes out... AND _The Gospel of Loki_ is coming out a week later *screaming* I have been waiting six years for this book. Yes, I am going to be a mess next month.**

**ANYWAY.**

* * *

_**PART ONE – ONCE**_

**CHAPTER TWO**

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**LOKI CURLED IN **ON HIMSELF IN HIS SLEEP, eyes screwed shut as memories of the previous day worked their ways through his mind. The coronation at which his brother was laughing and smiling, tossing Mjøllnir in his hand as if he had not a care in the world. The crashing of a table weighed with food and wine in his brother's rage at the unforgivable breach of security to the Weapons Vault. The confrontation of the Gatekeeper on the Bifröst Bridge. Jötunnheimr, cold, unforgiving Jötunnheimr where his arm had turned blue and horns had erupted from his brow and Odin had abandoned him to Laufey who called him his son—

Loki's eyes snapped open and he roared as he rolled over, swiping out for a phantom menace he was sure was there. His eyes widened with alarm when he saw his arm, the arm that was blue and tipped with sharp black nails, the flesh covered with arrowhead scars. He froze with horror.

"No," he choked as he willed himself to change back to his normal skin. "I'm not—"

A smattering of footsteps from outside caught his attention. He tore his eyes away from him arm as he looked around, taking in his surroundings. The room was big with a high ceiling and walls made of smooth ice and dark stone into which were carved images; he couldn't see them properly due to the low light, but he was sure they depicted jötnar and beasts he had never seen or heard of. Furniture was scattered around the room, much made from stone and covered with furs which, to his disappointment because now he was shivering, were only there for padding. The bed he was on had furs as well, and he took these up eagerly and wrapped them around himself, but they were too thin to really have a difference; no doubt no accident on Laufey's part. The doors opposite the bed were grand and made of metal.

Loki rubbed his hands together, concentrating for a few seconds and soon, an emerald flame danced to life between his fingers. The warmth it gave was instant relief, but he was frustrated by how small it was. He was too weak at the present time to summon anything much bigger than this.

_I'll manage_, he thought grimly, running it up and down his bare chest. His trousers were ruined and clung loosely around his waist.

But whatever he told himself, the simple fact was that he was desperately cold. His teeth were chattering loudly and his extremities were going numb from the low temperature.

More footsteps sounded outside, these ones heavy and earth shattering and the doors opened, banging against the wall. Loki jumped, banishing the fire quickly as four jötnar marched in, flanking Laufey.

He looked down upon Loki disapprovingly as he shrunk back reflexively. "You wear your Ás skin."

"Did you force me to shift in my sleep?" Loki demanded. "Did you cast some spell on me?"

"I didn't; that was nothing but your instinct bearing down on you," Laufey said dismissively.

Loki pulled the furs tighter around himself as Laufey stood over him, staring as resentfully as he could up at him. "Don't come any closer."

"I will have no son of mine looking like that," Laufey growled.

Loki cried out as Laufey pushed him roughly to the bed with a hand and his nose smacked into his knee. Laufey flung away the furs and Loki felt the shift coming over him again. He gritted his teeth, waiting for the pain like the first time but instead of it, it rather felt like change spilt from his chest. He hated his instincts, hated them as he felt the weight bearing down upon his head as the horns grew and his body lengthened. The roughness of his skin scraped against the icy bed as he moved, twitching and shivering.

"Now you are much more presentable."

"Presentable?" Loki spat. "Presentable for what, exactly?"

"For my benefit; your Ás complexion is ugly to look upon."

"And I find your jötunn appearance equally revolting." He refused to look at himself and so his eyes remained tightly shut. He was aware of Laufey's hand still on his back, refusing to let him go least he change again.

Laufey growled softly in warning as Loki's hands came to claw at his arm in an attempt to get the jötunn to let him up.

"Sire?"

Loki's stomach dropped as he heard the small voice, and he paused. He cracked an eye open out of curiosity more than anything else to see where it had come from. At the door Loki saw a small ruby eye peeking around the edge, looking at Laufey and then himself bent double in the bed at his waist in ripped Ás clothing, struggling weakly against Laufey's hand.

"Helblindi," Laufey said, a sigh echoing in his tone. "I told you not to disturb me this night."

"But I want to see him," the jötunn whined. "Everyone's talking about him and I want to see him!"

"And so you shall, but that will be later," Laufey continued patiently. "Escort him from here."

One of the guards nodded and crossed to the door. "Come, little prince; you should not be here now."

"But I want to see him!"

"Later, as your sire has already told you."

The small jötunn was herded away with gentle hands before the door was shut. A bolt was pulled across it.

Loki's ears were ringing. Sire; the small jötunn had called Laufey _sire_. Loki's mind was a whirlwind. _Say, and say only hypothetically__,_he thought, _that I believe Laufey and I am … I am his son, and then that would mean … that would mean—_

"You have been asleep half the night and your brothers grow impatient."

"Thor is my brother," Loki said, his voice hollow. "I have no other brothers." He hadn't missed the use of the plural; there were _more_ of them?!

Laufey let out a noise of frustration and hauled Loki from the bed, one hand in his hair whilst the other was pressed into the small of his back. Loki yelped and was forced to follow, his bare feet scraping along the floor as he tried to fight Laufey off.

"Let go!" he shouted, trying to pull out of Laufey's grip. "Let me go, you—you … _Frost Giant_!"

Laufey stopped him up and pulled on one of his horns. It was a sharp twist he gave, and one that left Loki sprawled and howling in hurt and pain as he clutched his head.

"I am your sire and your king and I will not be spoken to like that," Laufey snarled. "What I may have ignored yesternight I will not ignore now. You will learn your place."

"You are not my king," Loki whimpered, "and you are _not_ my father or my sire."

Laufey pulled Loki's head up and before he could look away or close his eyes, he saw himself in one of the smooth, ice covered walls. It wasn't a perfect reflection, but it was clear enough that Loki could see what was in front of him. He hardly recognised the thin, terrified face that looked back at him, the wide ruby eyes, the horns that curved from his brow in some cruel mocking of those of his helmet, or the delicate, light blue scars traced into the cobalt skin that looped across his forehead and split his chin and cheekbones. They continued their patterns down his throat, around his neck and onto his chest and arms and Loki could not help but see some sort of savage beauty in them. But there was no denying it was him, or what he would look like if he was jötunn. But he was jötunn, those beautifully terrible scars belonged to him, those eyes were his and that cold, ugly flesh was his. He was the cursed thing he had spent his childhood hating and wishing to fight and slay and rid Yggdrasil of—

Laufey released him when he realised the fight had gone out of him and he slumped to the floor. The king stepped back, looking upon him with no stirrings of pity in the bloody eyes.

"It's not true," Loki croaked; he couldn't tear his eyes away from himself. His claw-like nails scraped shallow grooves in the floor as he clenched his fists. "It can't be…. I am Odinson …"

"The name of Odinson is a lie," Laufey admonished.

"You're lying," Loki said, the growl coming back into his voice and he forced himself to face Laufey. "My father is Odin Bórrson, the Allfather, Ruler of the Æsir and High Lord of Yggdrasil. And you … all you are is a savage who calls himself the king of a dying, frozen rock." Tendrils of green magic were snaking between his fingers, hissing against the icy floor as it melted from the heat.

Laufey's lip curled in a snarl.

"I. Am not. _Your son_! I am Loki of Asgard! _I am Ás_!"

Loki flung the magic at Laufey. Laufey's guards conjured shields of ice and Loki hissed with rage when the magic was dissipated, completely harmless against them. He reached into the negative space for a dagger, but the thing was nothing more than a pinprick in his huge hand now, utterly useless. He slashed at the guards as they advanced, but it was knocked from his hand and it spun into a dark corner of the room. Loki was tackled to the ground, screaming in rage as he thrashed weakly, but he was too frightened and confused and tired to put up much of a fight.

Laufey towered over him, eyes narrowed with that disapproving look once again. "You will not leave this room until I am shown some respect."

"Be prepared for a long wait, then," Loki sneered as he raised his head – no small effort on his behalf, "because you deserve _none_."

"Do not bring him any sustenance; he should bend quickly enough if he values his life."

The guards released him and crossed to the door. Loki sat up, wincing as they left and slammed the door shut. He heard the bolt slide across the outside as he flung himself at the door, pounding his fists against it and snarling in rage as he scrabbled against the frosted metal. Summoning what little energy he had left, he condensed it into a ball of magic and flung it at the door, but nothing happened much to his bitter disappointment.

"Savage!" he bellowed. "Monster! Son of a bitch!"

After a few minutes, his vicious rage and temper had closed itself back into him and he simmered. He was too proud to call out insults like a child … like Thor. The ache in his gut, the ache for Thor, was crippling. He sank to the floor and he shifted back to his Ás skin, too miserable to care about the cold that cut into him like a knife. He sat there, hugging himself and shivering and fighting back the pain which threatened to tear him apart. How could have Odin left him here like he was nothing? Like he was something to be given away for his precious peace?

Anger stabbed at him again, but this time it was towards Odin. Odin had lied to him; Odin had never loved him as he had Thor and he hated how he could finally put a reason to the long asked question. Odin wouldn't be coming back. He didn't know why he had jumped to that conclusion so suddenly, but the more he thought about it, the more he could see his father capable of doing such a thing. All Odin cared about was peace; when the jötnar had broken into the Vault – albeit at his invite – all Odin could do was bleat stupidly to Thor about how it was vital the peace be kept. All he could do when he had come to Jötunnheimr to retrieve his wayward son on his foolish endeavour was to give Loki to the realm as a peace offering.

"How could you love me?" Loki laughed bitterly to himself under his breathe. "How could you have ever loved the monster?" No, Odin had never loved him. He had only loved his perfect son Thor; it was golden Thor who could do no wrong and it was Loki who was shoved aside by everyone. It was Thor who was strong and noble, undefeatable and always in the right; and it was Loki who was sly and thin, ridiculed for his love of magic and pushed away because he looked so … non-Ás.

"All of Asgard saw there was something wrong with me, even if they didn't know what. Now I know what they were afraid of." Loki's eyes narrowed as he looked at his shaking hands. He imagined them blue and marked with arrowheads, the skin rough like rock and thick. Maybe Laufey's order to not give him food was a blessing in disguise, one which he could follow until he starved to death … or he could kill himself here and now with the dagger.

Loki stood up and shuffled to the corner it had been flung to. The metal was already freezing, and he had to pick it up gingerly with the edge of one of the furs, rubbing it back and forth until it was warm enough to grasp by the handle. He placed the icy tip above his heart and wrapped his second hand around his first.

"Heimdallr," Loki whispered hoarsely. "I know you can see me, and I want you to tell my fa— … tell Odin that he's driven me to desperation. I can't deal with this, being a Frost Giant. How could I when I know what a beast I am?"

But as he looked to the blade, a nugget of defiance rose inside him. Why should he have to die for the Allfather's lies and mistakes? And he, Loki, who was so infamous for his unbending pride, contemplating suicide? The indecision made his hands tremble and, after a few more seconds, the dagger slipped from his senseless fingers. The clatter rang through the chamber as Loki stumbled backwards to the bed, biting his lip and trembling.

"Don't think I won't do it," he continued. "I have one thing left to me, and that is hope I can get away from this. And here is my warning: I may take a long time to crack, but when I do, know it was your own damn fault." He picked up the dagger and slid it back into the negative space, glaring resentfully up at the ceiling. "Time's ticking, Odin."

* * *

#

* * *

**HE** WAS HONESTLY surprised when the door opened again and he looked up sharply to see the small jötunn from earlier slip into the room and close the door quickly. Loki eyed him suspiciously, pulling the furs tighter around himself as the small boy padded cautiously towards him. He wore his black hair long, the plait it was tied into reaching his mid-back. Furs covered the lower half of his body, stretching to his calves and decorated with dark, tattoo-like patterns. Judging from his height, Loki thought he couldn't be more than five or six centuries old. There was a bundle of fur and metal in his arms, held tightly to his chest.

"Are you my brother?" he asked.

"I … I don't know," Loki said, looking anywhere but at him.

"If you're my brother," the boy said, climbing up onto the bed, "why aren't you jötunn? Because I brought you some more clothes since the ones you're wearing are pretty ripped." He proffered the bundle.

"I don't want to be jötunn," Loki answered, sliding away and not taking it.

The boy paid no heed to this, crawling closer to him across the furs. His brow was crinkled in confusion. "I saw you before and you were jötunn. Why don't you want to be yourself?" He pushed the bundle behind him to the end of the bed.

Loki swallowed the lump in his throat, but it was difficult. "Because the Frost Giants are savage, and it is an honour to kill them."

"Frost Giants? That's rude," he said.

Loki looked him up and down.

"I'm Helblindi," the boy said, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "You're Loki, aren't you? At least, that's what sire called you."

Loki didn't reply. "Does Laufey know you're here?"

Helblindi's brow furrowed even more at the way Loki addressed the king. "No, sire doesn't know," he said slowly, and Loki knew at once it was a lie; the hesitance in his voice and the immediate break of eye contact was enough for him to tell.

Instantly, he was determined not to get close to the boy. That was clever of the king, getting Helblindi to do his dirty work so Loki would open up more, but now he knew the game he was playing, he pressed himself all the way to the bed's headboard in an effort to stay as far away from Helblindi as possible.

Helblindi saw the distrust in his eyes and instantly his face fell. Loki told himself firmly not to let his heart grow soft. No, this boy was a Frost Giant; he was not to be trusted, especially since he was Laufey's agent, his son … Loki's …

_Norns_, he thought viciously. _Why this? Why _me_?_

"Do you have any more siblings?" he asked slowly.

"Býleistr, but he's boring," Helblindi told him, rolling his eyes. "He's the oldest – older than you, too – and he's going to be king after sire … unless you challenge him and win in hólmganga."

"Is he, now?" Loki said, his mouth dry. It had been a fear at the back of his mind that he was crown prince, a big one considering how eager Laufey had been to take him back, but evidently he was not, and it came as a huge surge of relief. He had no desire for the crown either and had no wish to participate in whatever hólmganga was. "Why does Laufey want me so much?"

"Because we're brothers," Helbindi said, confused. "He's your sire."

Loki had not the heart to correct him, and he hated himself for it. Damn Laufey; Helblindi was getting to him. He stood, jumping down to the floor and striding angrily as far away from Helblindi as possible. He'd heard the latch being locked after Helblindi had entered, so he didn't even bother to try the door in an effort to escape his newfound sibli—

No, he had no siblings here.

"What do you want from me, Laufey?" Loki fumed. "I know you can hear me, so let me ask you right now what you want so you can spare the trouble of sending your son in." Unsurprisingly, there was no response. "Hiding?!" he bellowed, slamming his fists onto the wall. The fur fell from his shoulders and Loki ducked down, scrambling to pull it around himself again.

"Why don't you just change?" Helblindi said, sliding from the bed. He moved forwards with caution now, head cocked to the side and watching for any hints as to if Loki would move away again. "You won't be cold anymore."

"I already told you," Loki said huffily, "I don't want to be jötunn."

"Not changing your skin and sparing yourself the discomfort of the cold isn't going to change your blood," Helblindi reasoned.

"It will to me," Loki hissed.

Helblindi stopped at Loki's tone, knotting his fingers together nervously and poking his thumbs into his palms. Loki noted dimly that was what he did as well when he was nervous.

_No, I'm not related to him._

"I like your jötunn skin," Helblindi said quietly, "and I like you. I don't want to see you cold like this."

Loki's throat became stuck. Helblindi, a jötunn, _like_ him? When no one in Asgard did? _It's a trick_, he snapped to himself, _a way to get you to do what they want. And you don't need their sympathy._ He hunkered further into the furs, teeth chattering as he huddled into himself. He was so _cold._

_"I like your jötunn skin."_

Helblindi's eyes were brimming with worry and Loki faltered. Worry …? Did he really care about him? But what if his words and mannerisms _weren't_ just some façade?

"Please," Helblindi said, "change."

His will broke.

Loki closed his eyes and shifted, if only not to watch his body become something so alien. Instantly he felt better, more comfortable with the temperature and Helblindi clapped.

"Wow! You have your horns already?" Loki's eyes snapped open as Helblindi rushed to his side, eyes wide as he looked to the horns. "Are they heavy? Do they hurt? Býleistr said they hurt when they first grow, but I don't know if he was just teasing me or not or if it was because his grew half a century late or something. Can I touch them?"

"What?" Loki said, dumbstruck.

"Can I touch them? They're so huge; I think they might be even bigger than Býleistr's!"

"Don't touch them," Loki said quietly. He felt uncomfortable and he wished suddenly he hadn't shifted. This new attention was making him all the more uncomfortable and aware of his new skin.

"Aww why? They do hurt, don't they? I didn't know if Býleistr was lying or not about them hurting when they first emerge, but I guess he was right, because you don't want me to touch them," Helblindi pouted. He shuffled his feet when Loki looked at him curiously. He was about to ask why he was reacting in such a way to a Frost Giant of all things, but then he forced the habitual assumption away; this was no child of Asgard. "And your family lines are so deep, too," Helblindi continued to babble as he ran his finger along two of the lines on Loki's left arm. "Mine aren't _this_ deep. Mama says that the deeper the lines run, the more important a person's life is. But I didn't hear the rest of what she said because I got upset."

"But my life isn't important," Loki said, reacting before he could shut himself up. "I'm …"

_I'm miserable_._ And I don't even know if I want to live anymore._

"Every life's important."

"How do you know?" Loki said, the deep growl of his voice rumbling through the air in his bitterness.

Helblindi looked stunned. "You don't know the story? About the Mother?"

Loki's silence was Helblindi's answer.

"Hmm." Helblindi settled himself down in Loki's lap and he twitched in surprise, but he hadn't the heart to remove the small jötunn from his seat. "After the world was made by Ymir, he and his consort Auðumbla populated the worlds with their children, but their favourites amongst the worlds were the children of Jötunnheimr because they were the most similar to themselves."

Loki had heard of Ymir, but knew nothing of Auðumbla except that she had been some sort of cow. He noted it to Helblindi, who looked affronted at the very thought.

"She wasn't a cow," he said, startled. "She was the Mother."

"Erm, alright," Loki said, not pushing the point.

"But as I was saying, the jötnar were Ymir and Auðumbla's favourite children amongst their creations, so they granted them the gift of agelessness, so they would never look old even until their deaths unlike other races. But this became a problem because there was little to distinguish between the people. So Auðumbla took a jötunn babe and gave him the lines of his house. His parents recognised him at once and cut the lines into themselves, too, and when the jötunn had a family of his own, his offspring too bore his marks. Other families copied this and soon every house had their own lines and marks, because it is so important that the families of the jötnar stay together."

"But why are some lines deeper than others?" Loki pressed.

"I told you, I don't know, because I was too angry at Mama because my lines aren't so deep."

Loki felt his gut clench and Helblindi noticed Loki's muscles tighten. Mama … mother. "What's her name?" he asked. No, he didn't care, he didn't ca—

"Fárbauti," Helblindi said simply. "She's the most kindest and wonderful Mama ever."

"Is she?" Loki said, his throat dry.

Helblindi didn't notice, because he continued on, "When she heard you were here and still alive, I swear she fainted because she was so happy. But sire said she couldn't come to see you yet because you're too upset about being taken away from Asgard and were reacting badly to being jötunn."

Helblindi yelped with surprise as Loki stood up and started to pace, hand to his forehead as his heart pounding loudly in his chest. His mother … his mother had been overwhelmed with happiness? _But no_, he snarled to himself, _Frigga is my mother, not this Fárbauti. I have never heard her name, and yet Helblindi claims she is my mother and _fainted_ when she heard of me?_ He tried to run his fingers through his hair, but cursed as he forgot about the horns as he rammed his fingertips into them. When had he become so accepting of the situation? The confusion about his feelings was tearing him and his heart to pieces. To whom did he owe his familial allegiances? His old family on Asgard? Or his supposed new one here? _Asgard_, he snapped to himself. _No matter my blood, I am Loki of Asgard._

"Hey," Helblindi said, standing up and touching Loki's arm. It was instinctual, the snarl that ripped itself from his throat and it sent Helblindi stumbling back.

Loki blinked. "Sorry," he muttered. "It's just … it's a lot to have thrust upon you."

"But didn't you have a caring fake Mama back at Asgard?"

Fake? Frigga? No, she was his real mother … but she had lied to him, too. Had never once spoken to him about any of this other side of himself for all those years he had spent time with her reading, studying magic and running to her for comfort at every scraped knee, unresolved argument and every question he found too embarrassing to ask anyone else. There couldn't be anyone remotely like her. But she had betrayed him as much as the Allfather had, really; hadn't she?

"Brother?"

"Go," Loki hissed. "Leave; now." He wasn't in the mood to tolerate the jötunn anymore.

"What did I do?" Helblindi asked, fear creeping into his voice as he tried to understand what had caused the violent change of mood. "Brother—"

"I said go!" Loki bellowed. His teeth flashed in the low light and Helblindi backed away, slipping towards the door and knocking hurriedly upon it. He exited a moment later as Loki threw himself onto the bed, a dry sob wracking his body. It was only when he woke later from an uneasy sleep he realised he hadn't shifted back.

* * *

#

* * *

**LOKI** HAD NOTICED, much to his delight, that his and the jötnar's sleeping patterns were different. They were nocturnal creatures, he realised quickly, which meant whilst the rest of the castle was asleep, he could sit and think in peace in his Ás skin about ways he could escape Jötunnheimr without the use of the Bifröst just in case Laufey's words were true; he also ruled out the portals because, he was sure, Laufey had taken steps to ensure they could not be breeched through either collapsing the sites, spelling them closed or having them constantly watched. It also meant that, whenever the jötnar were awake, he was asleep and was woken by them. And so it was only all too soon that he began sleeping by day, too and, if he had to be honest with himself, he preferred the night hours. The glare was taken off the ice and snow he saw through the single high window in the room, something he had tried to break without success through a variety of means.

Three nights after his first confrontation with Laufey and encounter with Helblindi, he started to get hungry. He knew from past experience he didn't _need_ to eat every day before he got uncomfortable, but his mood got worse the longer the time went by between meals. Laufey came back every night to check on him, and every time he did so, Loki had become crankier and crankier. He was cold, tired and ravenous by the week's end. But still he refused to bend to Laufey's demands of respect. Indeed, he called him so many foul things his horns had been yanked on relentlessly when he had been forced to take his jötunn form for Laufey's pleasing. And the pain made Loki all the more stubborn.

But as the time ticked by and one week become two, Loki had become a nightmare to deal with. His stomach was a painful hole in his middle and it had forced him to remain in his jötunn form for he was too weak now to fight off the cold and ignore the grip of hunger eating away at his belly simultaneously. He had finally pulled on the clothes Helblindi had left him, too, for his trousers were too damaged and soiled to be of any much use, now. The furs were fine, but, Loki noted with frustration, they were just as thin as the others and offered minimal warming for his Ás skin. The clothes weren't exactly a loincloth, but it was a close fitting description. The fur and leather, backed with rings of mail, came to his knees and was held up with a thick belt. And he hated every second of it, looking at himself and seeing the hideous shade of blue he had become, always noticing how tall he had grown and the weight of the new bone upon his head. But every day, he lived in the hope he would hear from Asgard, but every night his hopes went unanswered, and it was these everyday betrayals that added all the more to his vile moods.

The chambers he was in were becoming wrecked with his constant stormings and losses of temper. He had shredded the furs and pillows of the bed, thrown the furniture against the walls and clawed at the artwork that had been carved there so carefully until the original works could not be discerned anymore.

But Laufey had kept pushing because, he knew just as well as Loki knew, he would be close to breaking if he so valued his life. And Loki did; despite all the misery and pain he had been put through daily, he found he wanted to live.

And so, after eighteen nights without food, having been lowered to licking at the walls for water and falling into restless nights full of rage with the knowledge Asgard had abandoned him for another turn of the realm, Loki finally knelt before Laufey and gave a stiff and curt apology.

"I am sorry for my behaviour over the past two and a half weeks," he said quickly, looking at Laufey's knees.

"And will you show me such disrespect again?" Laufey said, crossing his arms.

"No … my king." Loki bit at the inside of his cheek as he said it so quietly he was sure Laufey had not heard. Frigga had always said his pride would get the better of him one day, and it had. He was famished, exhausted, and completely flattened, and it was a great difficulty for him to do this and accept Laufey's help.

"Will you obey?"

"… Yes."

"I shall accept this apology," Laufey rumbled after a minute or so of contemplation. "You can join us for the dawn meal."

_Of course_, Loki thought as he got to his feet, shoulders hunched and eyes fixed firmly on the floor, _it's just after dawn, so they're eating now._

He followed Laufey silently, an angry presence behind the king. The four guards folded around the two of them as they left the room, and Laufey looked back to Loki; he still refused to lift his eyes any higher than the back of Laufey's calves.

"Do all Asgardians sulk as long as you?" Laufey asked, amused.

Loki twitched. To address the Æsir as _Asgardians_ was the equivalent to addressing the jötnar as _Frost Giants_, he had concluded, gauging by Helblindi's reaction.

"I've always had a special talent for it," he said after half a minute's silence. "I've had plenty of time to practice over the years."

"I can't imagine," Laufey said sarcastically. Loki wanted to hit him.

Apart from this brief exchange, they walked through the castle silently, and Loki noticed, somewhat pleased about it, they hadn't met a single soul by the time Laufey pushed open a set of heavy looking doors. The room beyond was bathed in light, open and airy and not what Loki had been expecting at all, that being some dank, dark hole. Despite himself, his head perked up and he looked around the room with interest. The highly vaulted ceiling was an elaborate piece of architecture, and, what would have been an indiscernible mess to his Ás eyes because of the brightness of the ice, he could see patterns and knotwork carved into the supporting structures. Windows fitted with clear ice looked out onto the rising sun. Under the windows was a long table situated on a dais.

"Brother!" Helblindi fought his way through the guards and threw his arms around Loki's midriff. "You're here, and you're jötunn!" he crowed with delight. "Do you like it yet? Because I do."

A scraping chair sounded at the top of the room and Loki looked up in time to see a curtain of black hair disappearing through a door to an antechamber that closed with a _bang!_

Helblindi's face dropped. "Where's Mama going?"

Laufey said gently, "She just needs to be alone for a little; leave her be."

But Loki's throat had become stuck. His blatant refusals at his parentage by Laufey had subsided greatly over the past few nights because he was too hungry to protest much. And with all that time to sit and think, all his mind was able to turn to was Laufey. Always it was Laufey and every time Laufey had come up in Loki's thoughts, he had crossed to the wall where the king had dragged him and looked into the reflection there, searching for any signs at a connection. The shape of their eyes was similar, Loki thought, and the prominent cheekbones, but that was where the similarities ended. As he had determined from Helblindi's story and Laufey's continuous talk of the lines of House Laufey, Loki had seen his matched Laufey's and Helblindi's perfectly. The realisation had hurt him, because he had always had the hope burning in his chest that the whole thing was a mistake, but there was no denying it after that. That had resulted in the biggest fit of rage he'd had for many centuries. And that meant that the jötunn that had left, the one Helblindi called mother…

What was wrong with him? Why would he care if he was rejected by her? He swallowed the lump and turned his attention to the top table, the hunger pains of his stomach no longer bothering him as much.

"Come."

Laufey's tight grip on his arm was unnecessary as Loki was so hungry and defeated he would have sat down only too happily. He glanced up once quickly, drowning out Helblindi's meaningless chatter to see another jötunn sitting at the table. Judging from the familial lines, this must have been Býleistr, because, Loki thought, he looked far too young to be one of Laufey's brothers. He was tall and powerfully built, even for the jötnar. The clue Loki had other than the lines as to who he was was that his hair, hair that was just as short as Loki's, matched Helblindi's and his own in colour and lustre. But otherwise, he couldn't see a resemblance which came as some form of relief to him; Býleistr looked like Laufey, he thought. He too had horns like Loki and Laufey, but Loki thought Helblindi had been right in saying they were smaller than his own, if only slightly.

"Býleistr, this is Loki," said Helblindi. "He's our brother who was raised by Odin. He's back, now! Isn't it great?"

"I know who he is," Býleistr said coldly, crossing his arms firmly against his chest.

Loki was glad for the hostility instead of disappointed by it. He sneered. "And what an absolutely stunning pleasure to meet you, too," he said sarcastically. "Want to be best friends?"

"Enough," Laufey said, his grip now painful.

"Let go of my arm," Loki said dangerously.

Laufey let go of his arm.

"Sit here," Helblindi said enthusiastically, pushing a chair back for Loki. He dropped down into it. "You're gonna like the food loads," Helblindi said, the spirit of zeal.

He did nothing. He didn't want to be here, and his body language was clear in that respect. His shoulders were hunched and his head was rested on the flint tabletop, hands locked at the nape of his neck as that was where Helblindi was insistently prodding him in an effort to get him to reengage in a very one-sided conversation. He only moved again when food was brought. His head snapped up when the clack of plates rung along the table. Loki tilted his head to the side, regarding the food in front of him.

If he had to describe every dish there with a single word, that word would have been _tough_. Cold meats which looked completely frozen lay artfully on the dishes surrounded by brittle vegetables. A servant came to Loki's right and he jumped back in alarm until he realised the jötunn was filling his goblet with some sort of deep red drink. Wine of some sort?

"Try this one!" Helblindi said, pulling a platter of pinkish meat towards him and putting some onto Loki's plate with his small hands. "This one's my favourite."

Loki looked around to see if there was some sort of cutlery to eat with, but there was nothing. He snuck a glance to Laufey and Býleistr. They filled their own plates before Laufey picked up a piece of white meat and eat it with his hands. Loki did the same with his, weighing it before he muttered the smallest of spells under his breath, the only spell he could cast in his weakened state. No poison made itself known to him and he took a cautious bite. His teeth crunched through the frozen meat easily and he could distinguish herbs and sauces that it had been cooked in before being frozen. It was … good. Then he started wolfing the rest down and he cleaned not only his plate, but the serving platter before pulling another towards him and demolishing that, too. He felt rather than saw Laufey watching him with a hawk-like eye as he gulped down the drink and discovered it to be some sort of spiced wine which, he had to admit silently to himself, did taste wonderful.

"I told you you'd like it," Helblindi said, grinning as he eat his own food. "Now try this one!" He picked up another dish and set it in front of Loki.

"He's probably just hungry; he'd eat it even if it was infested," Býleistr said dismissively as he picked at his own food.

Loki snarled quietly.

"How long has it been since he's eaten, sire?" Býleistr continued as if Loki had done nothing. "Seventeen nights?"

"Eighteen," Laufey corrected.

Loki started on the food Helblindi had put in front of him just as his stomach was signalling to him it was nearly full. He finished it before he sat back in his seat, chewing the final mouthful slowly to savour the taste. Helblindi was right, he found; all the food was good. But he would never admit it to anyone but the small jötunn. At least, Loki thought, when he finally got back to Asgard sometime in the future, he would have to say he hadn't exactly been underfed.

He stood, pushing the chair back.

"Brother," Helblindi said, jumping to his own feet and putting his hands on Loki's navel to stop him, "where're you going?"

"To where Laufey wants me," Loki said. "Locked up in the room."

"You will stay," Laufey said. Loki threw him a filthy look, but he didn't make any more effort to move. He merely stood, looking at the table as he curled his hands into fists; the nails cut into the skin.

"Look at me," Laufey commanded.

Loki twitched but did as he was told, scowling at the king as he too stood.

"Now leave us," Laufey instructed of the guards by the door. They bowed and left, closing the door behind them and the sound echoed in the chamber horribly.

Laufey circled around the back of Loki slowly, looking at every inch of his body and he had to fight down the urge to twitch or flinch. He wanted to run, wanted to turn around and claw Laufey as he passed so close behind him he failed to entirely supress his shudder.

"He's underweight," Laufey concluded, looking at Býleistr.

"Generally, when you starve me for nearly three weeks, I don't look so well," Loki snapped. He was annoyed as well how Laufey spoke as if he wasn't there. Not _you're underweight_, it was _he's underweight_, like he was an object.

"You will watch your tongue," said Laufey.

Loki would have dearly liked to snap back that he couldn't help but be snarky, but he gritted his teeth and swallowed the words at the last second; he didn't need to be deprived of food for another extended period of time, especially for his trivial talk-back. He said instead with every bite of loathing he judged he could get away with, "Yes … my king."

Laufey twitched. Loki bore his teeth.

"In Asgard," Laufey started, his voice light and casual in a way Loki hadn't heard before, "do you have a mate?"

"Isn't a thousand years a bit young to be thinking of marrying?" Loki said. "In answer to your question: no. I am not betrothed to any, nor do I have a special lady friend I spend my twilight hours with." He wished he hadn't said that; perhaps if he had lied, if he had told Laufey he had a wife worrying over him back at Asgard, he might've been let go. But would have he? Even if he did, he thought the chance would have been slim to have been released.

"Good."

"Why is it suddenly so important to you?" Loki snapped. "I thought you didn't care, seeing as how you've so happily torn my world to pieces over the last few weeks."

"It's amusing you saying that, seeing as how you're bringing your own misery down on yourself," Býleistr said suddenly.

Loki's temper flared. He lunged at the older jötunn, snarling wildly, but Laufey caught him around the middle. "You bastard!" spat Loki. "'I'm bringing my misery on myself'? How _dare_ you?!"

Laufey had had enough by then. He grabbed one of Loki's horns by the tip and he jerked his arm down. Loki collapsed at once, whimpering.

Býleistr laughed. "Your horns haven't set yet? How delightfully _pitiful_…. You really are just a child, aren't you?"

"I'll kill you!" Loki screeched.

Laufey's hand tightened on his horn and Loki froze at once, quivering. "Better," the king hissed. "Now you will behave."

But unfortunately for Loki, 'behave' was a word he constantly neglected to hear.

"Loki," Helblindi said, taking his hand and squeezing it. "Please stop it. I don't want to see you fighting with sire and Býleistr."

Loki returned the squeeze, his anger simmering. His breaths were long and deep as he forced his heart rate to calm.

"Your pride needs to know its limits," Laufey said finally.

"So I've been told before," Loki said flatly. "My mother has told me such before. My real mother, Queen Frigga of Asgard."

"She is not your mother," said Laufey.

"She's as good as," Loki snapped.

"But the fact remains that she is not your birth mother," Laufey said dismissively.

"You can't tell me that," Loki said, "because my 'birth mother' walked out that door there rather than face me." He jabbed at the antechamber door. "And if you want me to accept her, you'd best tell her it won't be happening if she continues to act like that."

"You will say nothing more." Every word Laufey said he said with such poison Loki shrank back on instinct. And he hated it.

Silence fell, then, a silence that stretched for so long Loki wanted to sit down, but that damn stubborn pride wouldn't let him. He would stand for as long as necessary.

"You are a fine jötunn," Laufey said quietly after a few minutes. "Deep house lines, the strong horns of the royals, sharp claws and teeth and you have beauty in your face and body. Your brood will be strong when you mate."

Loki froze, his temper once again spiking. Flattery was not something he was used to being handed without a price, and so for it to be given now by someone whom he had not invited to his bedchambers rubbed him the wrong way. Especially flattery about something he despised about himself. "Is that all I am to you? A trivial object? Something to keep your bloodline strong?" He opened his hands and slammed them onto the table, his nails scraping horribly against the flint top as he glared murderously at Laufey. "I am not 'mating', for I will not pass this despicable blood to another, and that is if I could even find a woman willing to lie with the thing that I am. Is that the only reason why you took me back: to breed me?"

"Loki," Býleistr said lowly.

"You will find many willing to bear your children," Laufey said. "You are a prime example of jötunn blood."

"I don't _want_ to be a 'prime example'!" Loki yelled.

"You do not know the gifts you have been given to you by your mother and I."

"Really? Gifts in the form of the monster that I am?! If you want grandchildren, get them to give them to you," Loki spat, jabbing his finger at Býleistr and Helblindi. "_My king_."

He stormed to the door and wrenched it open. The guards stood alert outside, turning sharply to face him. Loki glared at them so marvellously they made no further move to stop him.

"Loki," Laufey growled.

"Don't you dare say my name," he spat, whirling around in the doorway and pointing a finger at the king. "I am not related to you, and nothing you or anyone else can say will make me change my mind." His gaze flickered to Helblindi. The youngest's eyes were shinning with unshed tears and Loki, pressing the guilt down as best he could, slammed the door behind him.

"Leave him," Laufey commanded. He pointed to one of the guards looking back in. "Follow him, but keep your distance. Make sure he doesn't go too far. I do not need my second born vanishing again."

* * *

**Helblindi baby ;A; *pats* Loki, you're a dick, you know that? Kicking your little brother from your rented rooms...**

**Auðumbla (Ow-THOOM-blah (I think that's how it sounds out, correct me if I'm wrong)) was the cow who licked Buri, Odin's grandfather, from a rock. She also gave her milk to the first giant, Ymir.**

**Ymir was the first being in existence in the Nordic creation myth. He was killed by Odin and his brothers, Vili and Ve who then made the world from his body. His eyebrows became Midgardr/Earth. How does everyone like living in a giant's eyebrows?**

**Helblindi (Hell-BLIN-dee) and Býleistr (Bee-LAYS-ter) are Loki's mythological brothers. Fárbauti (Fow-BOW-tee) is Loki's mythological father (we have no idea whether Helblindi and Býleistr were his full brothers or not), but since everything's been genderbent (*shakes fist at Marvel*) ****Fárbauti** is now female. Man, this is weird... I'm so used to writing **Fárbauti** as male and being an utter dick...

**As for Loki's age, I followed the maths guidelines from Tumblr, which is this: 82/5000 (info from the highest world lifespan average divided by the average lifespan Loki said in TDW) which is 0.0164. The first Thor movie had the date of the prologue at 965 AD, which means Loki, in 2011, was 1,046 years of age if he was born in that year of the war, which is what I'm assuming. 0.0164*1,046 = 17.1544. So Loki is about 17. Býleistr's about 1,300, so he's roughly 21, and Helblindi's about 600, so he's almost 10.**

**—_aylithe_**


	3. Chapter Three: Fárbauti

**And we're back with the next chapter. Still a Loki chapter. I know it's shorter, and I apologise about it. Writing is hard...**

* * *

**_PART ONE – ONCE_**

**CHAPTER THREE**

* * *

**IT WAS THE **ONLY PLACE LOKI COULD THINK OF TO GO, the closest to home he could get without actually going there. It was a subconscious decision on his part, really, walking through the crumbling castle and hiding if he heard any jötnar coming towards him along the corridors with glamours and shadows. Always his heart was loud in his chest until they safely passed, none-the-wiser to his presence. Soon, Loki was winding his way through the broken stone and thick snows of Jötunnheimr's outside environment to the Bifröst site where he stood, shaking with anger and looking on the knotted patterns half hidden by snow. He bent down and smoothed the snow away, exposing every twist and turn in the design.

"Heimdallr, I know you dislike me, Hel, you probably hate me," he said lowly, turning his gaze skyward, "but please, open the Bifröst; let me come home."

But as the silence stretched on and on with no sign of the bridge opening, he stifled curses jumping to his tongue, fighting to keep his breathing calm. "Heimdallr?"

The Gatekeeper's name was thick in his mouth. He couldn't shift back to his Ás skin, no matter how much he wanted to. The cold would get the better of him in no time, and he had no desire to ask for Heimdallr with his bloody loincloth falling around his damn ankles and he hated this Norns thrice-be-damned situation.

"I command you to open the bridge _now_!" he bellowed. "Take me away from here! I don't care about Odin's bloody peace and want nothing to do with Laufey's oh-so-grand plans for me, I just want to come home and get away from these monsters!" His chest was heaving and he started to pace in an attempt to calm himself, to work down the rage bubbling inside after everything that had been said and done since Thor's failed coronation. Every few seconds he looked to the sky, each time his hope faltering when the rainbow colours of the bridge still refused to appear. "Heimdallr!"

Still nothing.

Loki screamed and blasted the edge of the cliff with a powerful punch of magic. The magic reserves he had gathered from the meal dropped as he pounded away at the cliff, ignoring the hurt in his gut that built every time he struck at the ground. It was a pain he welcomed, the same pain that had been inflicted upon him when he had been running from that beast during the battle, and he bathed himself in it as he continued to ravage the cliff with his magic.

"Odin, if you are sitting in your precious Hliðskjálf and are watching me, answer me this: why did you never tell me _anything_? That I'm jötunn, that I'm monstrous and that I'm … I'm _Laufey's_ son. Why did you take me? Was that for your precious peace, too? Or if you just wanted to torment me, you've done a damn fine job of it." Loki sank to his knees, watching the last of the Bifröst site crumble away into the abyss beyond and felt something that was close to a dim satisfaction as he heard the rock crash at the bottom of the chasm. "Do you really hate me this much that you gave me away to pain and suffering and starvation under Laufey's hand? What did I ever do as a babe to warrant this?"

He looked to his hands, trembling as he swallowed thickly. Magic still throbbed around his fingers, a vivid green mist that snaked up his arms to his elbows. His flicked his fingers, a subtle movement and the magic went out with the tiniest of _snap_s. He felt calmer after the outrage and it was with a lighter heart he turned back to the castle and went inside; he had no better place to go, it seemed. He pulled up short when he saw the guard standing at the entrance to the inner chambers, one of the ones that had stood outside the dining room and Loki narrowed his eyes.

"Prince," he said, bowing his head slightly. Loki scowled. "I am to escort you back to your chambers so you may rest for the night."

"I can make my own way back," Loki said, seething.

"You have been given new, more permanent quarters, my lord."

Loki arched an eyebrow. What was Laufey thinking; did he think of it as a kindness to treat Loki better after abusing him for the better part of a month? _And as if I would want them._ "I would think Lau— … the king would want me to return to where I was staying before. Why have his orders changed?"

"They are not his orders; these are the wishes of the queen."

Loki froze; his heart had grown loud in his ears and he felt positively sick.

"If you please follow me," the guard said after a few seconds of silence, bowing his head once again before turning to walk away.

Loki laced his fingers together, pressing his thumbs into his palms as he followed the guard, his steps light and cautious. In all honesty, he was expecting this to be a test of some kind. Perhaps Laufey wanted to see how much control he had over him? Was he testing the waters as much as Loki was? His mind was turning over the possibilities as they continued walking and, after a few minutes, they came to a large open area. It was a circular arrangement, four doors interspersed equally along the outer rim of the room and the guard crossed to the second door on the right and opened it.

Loki padded inside, eyes adjusting to the low light. He held his palm up and summoned a tiny globe of light the size of an apple which he sent to the centre of the room to illuminate it. He halted.

It was big, that much was to say, but there was a staleness to the air and a certain unfriendliness which told him the room hadn't been used in a long time, if ever. It seemed to have been rearranged not much earlier, scrape marks on the floor which had scuffed the ice indicating the recent moving of furniture. The walls, like the rest of the castle, were made of ice-coated rock, but they lacked any sort of art or decoration. A bed, far more grand than the one he had been sleeping in in the other room, was pushed against the centre of the back wall, thick furs and fluffed cushions artfully arranged atop it. A rug which seemed to be made of ice bear fur was at the foot of the bed, and to the side of the room was a table and set of four chairs. Whilst the furniture was sparse, Loki found he liked it such a way.

He swallowed and found himself, in one of the very rare moments in his life, unsure of what to say. He settled himself for saying, "Leave me."

The guard bowed for a third time and let the door slide shut. The globe shone much more brightly now the outside light source was gone and Loki crossed to the bed, running his hand across the furs. They were lavish and very soft. He sunk onto them, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. Let him have this moment of relaxation; let no one disturb him; let him just forget where he was.

He shifted to his Ás skin and wrapped the furs around himself before banishing the small weirlight. They were much warmer than the others that had been given to him. And for the first time since Thor's coronation, he gave a true smile as he was pulled into sleep.

* * *

#

* * *

**IT** WAS, what felt to him, many hours later that he stirred. His mind was still groggy, but he had the distinct feeling someone was watching him. He sat up, pulling the furs tighter around himself to hide his current state such was his certainty it was Laufey who had disturbed him. He looked around slowly, having a hard time discerning anything in the room such was his lost night vision.

Loki flicked his wrist and the weirlight flared back into existence, bigger than the previous one and he threw it to the centre of the room. It pulsed quietly, throwing the room into a brighter state, but deepened the shadows at the edges. He kept searching, uncertainty trickling through him. Laufey would have shown himself by now; he wouldn't have held back to watch what Loki was doing; Laufey was confrontational, that much had been made clear when he had visited Loki in the past.

It was the subtlest shift in the corner of his eye that got his attention and his head snapped around, neck craning to try and find who had moved in the shadows. Yes, there was someone there; Loki could see a smudged figure, barely discernable to his weaker Ás eyes. "Who are you?" he said, the command ringing through the room. "Show yourself." He squinted, trying to make the figure out. It was a woman, he quickly concluded, of a small and slight stature for a jötunn. Hair tumbled loosely to her lower back, the metal woven into it catching the light as she moved slightly more towards him. Loki froze, his eyes wide in realisation as the jötunn came fully from the shadows.

This must have been the queen; it had to have been when she looked so similar to him she could be none other than his mother. But no; Frigga was his mother, not this monster, this _thing_ coming to sit next to him on the bed and reaching for him, a smile gracing the lips and the eyes crinkling at the corners. But that was his face, or a feminine version of it. The same narrow build of her shoulders and hips he also recognised, and they had the same long limbs and straight obsidian hair. Her name rose to the front of his mind like a soap bubble: Fárbauti.

_"She's the most kindest and wonderful Mama ever."_ Helblindi's words echoed in his mind.

"Get away," he said weakly.

She didn't, and he flinched horribly as her rough fingers touched his face gently. He could just imagine his jötunn skin showing under her fingers and his lip quivered. The growl leapt to his lips at once, but it sounded pitiful coming from his Ás throat, sounded like he was struck with a cold than anything else.

"Loki," she whispered.

He closed his eyes, unable to explain how her voice was tearing into him, filling the cracks left by the damage Laufey had inflicted on him in the past few nights or why her touch on his cheek felt _so damn good_.

"My boy … my beautiful boy." She laid her whole palm to his cheek and he leaned into it despite himself, fully shifting almost immediately; he hated how he did that all the time, now, changing back to the monster whenever someone touched him.

"Get away," he said again, his voice deep and jötunn once more.

Her fingers dug into his cheek for a split second before she pulled her hand back. Loki opened his eyes, looking at her with a hint of trepidation. He didn't know what to think of this. The rational part of him was telling him this jötunn woman was a stranger, someone who was not to be trusted because of what she was, but some deeper, buried part of himself ached for her; this was the first tenderness he had come across in this Hel, and he wanted it. And there was something else, something that recognised Fárbauti as something _more_…. He needed time to think.

He stood without another word, readjusting his clothes as he walked to the table and sat on one of the seats, covering his head with his arms and trembling. He heard her move and he growled, "Don't."

The furs shifted as she sat back on them. He listened to her breathing, surprised at how calm it was when his own was so fast from shock. He peeked at her from under his arm. She wasn't looking at him. She was biting her lip and looking towards the wall, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

A thousand questions burst in his mind, then: why did she flee from the meal hall? Why did she not spit in disgust when she had found him curled in the furs wearing the guise of something she hated? Why was she being so nice to him? … Why had she left him for long enough for Odin to take him in? And if he hadn't been abandoned, why had she allowed him to be taken from her?

The door opened and Loki looked up.

"Fárbauti."

Loki scowled at Laufey, half rising from his seat, his lip curled in warning.

"Loki," Laufey said flatly. Then, he said, which caught Loki in surprise, "I trust you had a restful sleep."

"Of course," he bit back. "The wonders it can do when you're not longer starving."

Laufey was just who Loki needed to see to shake himself back into reality. This woman, Fárbauti, his _mother_, was the beloved of Laufey, and there was no further proof needed to her true nature. She went to the king slowly, looking back at Loki as she stood next to Laufey. She held her hand out for him. "Loki, come."

He twitched. "Why?"

"Surely you want to eat?" she continued, a smile touching her mouth. "It is after midnight."

Loki did not smile back. "I'm not hungry." He sat back down, snapping his fingers so the weirlight blinked out of existence. "Go enjoy your breakfast, _mother_," he said scornfully. "You've done so for the past thousand years, have you not? Not to mention the past three weeks when I was dying of hunger."

"It was something you brought down upon yourself," Laufey said.

Fárbauti's brows creased. "Loki, please join us."

"Why? So you can run out again?" he snapped. He stood up and walked to the bed, where he lay down and wrapped the furs around himself. "Just go."

Laufey pulled Fárbauti's hand and, Loki swore he said to her as the door closed, "Have patience; he needs time to accept this."

Patience and acceptance? Those were two things Loki was not going to give, especially to Laufey, not after the jötunn had physically beaten and starved him over the past weeks. He turned over in the furs after a few minutes, trying to get back to sleep as common sense would have wanted him to so late at night, but he found himself unable to drift back off. In fact, he felt energised, hardly tired at all and he flung himself from the bed in frustration. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't sit in here and sulk, but yet he couldn't go down to the dining room and eat without losing face. In situations like this at Asgard, he had always gone to the library to calm his thoughts, but he didn't know where the library was here or, he thought about it, if there were even books on Jötunnheimr. But then, there would be few he could read.

His current form of communication had been through the use of the All-Tongue, having no knowledge whatsoever about the native language of the jötnar. And seeing as he was going to be stuck here a while – Loki felt it was pointless to continue denying it – he may as well do something to exercise his mind. He strode to the door, wrenching it open just as someone tried to knock on it. Loki almost walked into the maidservant, stopping short in front of her.

"My lord," she said hurriedly, dropping into a low curtsy, "Queen Fárbauti has bid me to bring you this."

Loki's eyes moved to her hands and the tray of food that was held there. Upon it was a pitcher of water, some sort of, what he assumed, was greyish bread and the meat Helblindi had recommended he eat the night before. "Just … err … put it on the table." He turned back to look at her, frowning at her stare. "Well?"

"O-of course," she said, cheeks darkening in what Loki took as a blush. She moved past him and placed the tray on the table, cast a quick glance around the room and left again. She gave him a long look again before scurrying away; Loki smirked at her flustered look.

"Have people always admired you so, _brother_?"

Loki's smirk dropped away to a scowl as Býleistr came through the door directly opposite. "I have to admit being to a stranger to such things," Loki said, "but I can tell you, I've had more sideways glances than you could ever dream of gaining yourself."

"I was under the impression your snark was quite without equal," Býleistr said without missing a beat. "It's a shame the stories are wrong."

"They've still reached your ears, though," Loki said. "But I have heard absolutely nothing about you though, _crown prince_."

"I have heard very interesting stories about you," Býleistr said, stepping forwards to the centre of the chamber. "Rumours involving that beast Odin rides into battle. Sleipnir, his name? Did you think of that whilst you were carrying him in your mare's womb?"

"I didn't know you were in contact with those mere ants on Midgardr," Loki said, feigning surprise as he advanced to Býleistr to meet him nose-to-nose. "You believe those stories, then? Do as you wish, but at least I can be well recognised and have a great deal of fun doing so whilst you sit here in your kingdom of rubble and ruin. I'll be more than happy to tell everyone you believe in those stories told by the drunken men of Midgardr."

"Are you proud of having the reputation of a whore?"

"But then that will lead to the correct assumption I am marvellous in bed, which gets us nicely around to our first point once again. If you are wondering why I have claimed to have more women in my bed than have even looked at you, now you know the reason why: because I have desirable talents, tales of which talents have spread to every branch of Yggdrasil. Can you say the same for yourself?"

Býleistr looked livid and he strode away angrily, shoulders back and horns held high. Loki smiled nastily as he put his hands behind his back, rocking back and forth on his feet. He looked to the first door on the left of the feeding corridor; he assumed the other belonged to Laufey and Fárbauti since it was the biggest. Loki knocked and from the other side, he heard a scramble and the door was pulled open half a second later.

"Loki!" Helblindi said, excitement shining in his eyes as he hugged Loki around the middle. Loki just had to wonder then if Helblindi was indeed six centuries of age; he acted younger than his years, but oddly, Loki thought, he found it to be rather endearing.

"Helblindi," Loki said, returning the greeting quickly.

"Why did you shout at sire last night?" Helblindi said at once, pulling Loki into the room and closing the door quickly. "Why don't you want to have a mate? You said you didn't have one back at Asgard."

"Don't worry about it," Loki said after a second.

Helblindi's face fell at Loki's brooding expression and he cast him a quizzical look. "You don't have to be upset about it," he said slowly. "It's not like you're ugly or anything."

"Aren't I?" Loki said humourless. He looked at his hands, hating the blue skin.

"No, don't change back," Helblindi said quickly, grabbing Loki's wrists. "I … I'll show you that you're not a monster or something similar."

He dashed away from Loki and it was now he looked up at the room. It was smaller than Loki's chambers, several articles of furniture were scattered around the place, chairs and stools tucked under tables and pushed against the walls. The bed was much the same as Loki's but the furs were messy and overturned as if Helblindi had thrown them off in a hurry. Toys were thrown carelessly about the room, toys of animals and beasts he had never seen before made of scraps of fur and with hard black and red glass beads for eyes.

"Come on," Helblindi said, jumping up on the bed and gesturing Loki over. He sat on it and Helblindi looked at him disapprovingly.

"What?" Loki asked, confused.

"Get your legs up, too."

Loki raised an eyebrow and did as Helblindi asked. He scrambled into Loki's lap, holding something in his hands face down.

"Now, you have to promise me something," Helblindi said seriously.

"I'm not good with keeping promises," Loki warned him.

"Just please promise me you won't change," Helblindi said.

Loki sighed. "Fine."

Helblindi looked at him a moment before he turned the object over. It was a shard of glass, a mirror Loki realised and he flinched back. Looking at himself in a distorted wall of ice was one thing, but to see himself as he was now sharply—

"You promised, brother," Helblindi said.

"I said I wouldn't change," Loki whispered. "I didn't say I would look."

"Please," Helblindi begged softly. His hand was gripping Loki's tightly. "I don't want you to hurt anymore, brother."

"Don't force me to do something I cannot bear to do," Loki growled.

"But you can do it," Helblindi said, encouragement ringing in his tone. He held the mirror fragment up. "You might feel better for it."

"'Might'," Loki repeated, his voice empty and lacking. "I can't even bear to look at my hands, much less my face."

"But you're you, jötunn or not, and you have to accept it!" Helblindi's voice was suddenly demanding and angry and Loki was so thoroughly reminded of Laufey in that instant he gave a bitter smile.

"Why are you doing this?" Loki said.

"Because you're my brother."

The answer twisted his gut and Loki bit his lip. How many times had he heard Thor say that over their years?

_"Go, run! They'll catch you and punish you, too!" Loki said quickly as they ran from the dining hall after a particularly spectacular trick of Loki pulling the feet of several dozen warriors all at once as he ripped the carpet away with a spell, resulting in much cursing and spilt food and beer._

_"No." Thor was adamant as they ran alongside each other, away from Odin's shout for the both of them to come back. "It was my idea and although you might have done the magic, I put the thought into your head in the first place. We're facing punishment together."_

_"Why?! You could get away without so much as a stern word!"_

_"Because you're my brother."_

Another time:

_"Thor! What are you doing here? We're gonna get caught by uncle Hœnir if you don't get out the window _now_!" Loki shrieked, panicking as he shoved the books back onto the shelves of the private library. They both knew they were forbidden entry there, but Thor had insisted Loki break in on a dare after he'd complained the books the royal library had on magic were too simple for him, now. He'd wanted a challenge, he'd said, and Thor had said if he could cast one spell from a book in here successfully, Loki was entitled to Thor's desserts for a whole week._

_"You go first," Thor said, jamming the books he was holding back into the wrong places and upside-down before flying to the window, jumping as high as he could to push it open._

_"It's my fault we're here; I wanted to look at his library," Loki said, insistent his brother get out first into the arms of safety._

_"You're going first. You can pull me up afterwards."_

_"But—"_

_"Stop arguing and go!"_

_"Why are you doing this?"_

_"Because you're my brother."_

Another:

_"I told you to leave me," Loki snapped, wincing in pain as Thor pulled him to his feet, "so why in Hel didn't you?"_

_"And watch you get snapped up by Niðhöggr's brood? Never." Thor was covered in wounds, results from the drops of acid spat at them by the writhing snakes. It had managed to eat away at the armour, too._

_"You could have died," Loki told him, grabbing Thor's arm and pressing his fingers on one of the wounds. _

_Thor hissed as they began to close, the green magic repairing skin and muscle in mere heartbeats to leave nothing but faint scars. "And you wouldn't of if I had left you?"_

_"I could have gotten myself out," Loki said, angry._

_"You can keep several tons of stone from crushing you to death, now?" Thor asked loftily._

_"You know I can; I'm not as fragile as I look."_

_"You're all skin and bone; of course you're fragile, not the mention you're my little brother."_

_"Funny, Thor. My sides are aching from the laughter." He closed several more of the wounds before Thor stirred again._

_"You asked why I didn't leave you." Thor's voice was low, but Loki heard him clearly enough as he continued working. "I didn't leave you because you're my family. I only have one brother, and nothing will change that."_

"Loki? Brother?"

Loki's attention snapped back to reality. He was tense, ready to spring and it was with some difficulty he relaxed his muscles. "Brother." He tested the word on his tongue, comparing it to the boy sitting in front of him, the mirror still held tightly in his hands.

"What happened? What were you thinking?"

"I …" He stared stoically at the wall. "Asgard. I was thinking about Asgard."

"Why?"

"Because," Loki said, falling back against the headboard with a barely discernable laugh, "you reminded me of Thor for a second there."

Helblindi's face scrunched in annoyance. "I don't want to remind anyone of _him_. He's a murderer of jötnar."

Another memory came back to him, then, one of a day so long ago he'd forgotten about it until now:

_"When I'm king, I'll hunt the monsters down and slay them all!"_

An anger clouded Loki's features now and his claws dug into his palms as he clenched his hands. Monsters; Thor had called the jötnar monsters. And here he was, exactly like them in appearance with the damn horns and markings of the bloody royal family of all things. Would Thor still hold true to the statement? If Loki were to go to him at that instant just as he was, what would Thor do? Crush him with Mjøllnir? Push him away in disgust and spit that he was a monster? His expression had certainly spoken volumes on the day he'd attacked Jötunnheimr and seen Loki's jötunn-self showing through his Ás skin. And Odin's attitude; how easily he had tossed him away….

"Show me."

Helblindi turned to look at him, surprised. "Loki?"

"Give it to me," he said sharply.

Helblindi passed the mirror back and Loki, taking a deep breath, tilted it towards him.

It was … _him_. The ice he'd seen his face in before was a poor substitute to the mirror, and for the first time, he felt some form of appreciation towards this new part of him. He could recognise himself clearly, even under the blue skin, the shadows of the horns, the lines and the rough ridges of skin on his cheekbones, eyebrows and jawline. He could see more clearly the resemblance he held to Fárbauti as well, and it was no wonder Laufey had commented on it. He really did look like her….

"See? You're still you," Helblindi said, climbing around his shoulder and his face came into view next to Loki now. Loki could see their similarities, too. "You're just … different."

"That is an understatement if I've ever heard one," Loki said. "But it's not why I'm here."

"Why are you here, then?" Helblindi said, a hint of caution in his voice.

"Well …" Loki thought how best to pose the dilemma to the boy. "What's this?" He held the mirror up and looked to Helblindi who looked a little confused.

"A mi—"

"What is it in Jötunn?"

Understanding shone in Helblindi's eyes and he let out a small breath of comprehension. "Hyggja."

"And this?" His hand strayed to the furs of the bed.

"Erfi."

"And this?" Loki concentrated and, after a couple of seconds, a small lump of ice, no bigger than an egg, formed in his palm.

"Svell. Loki?"

"Yes?"

"What is it in the Æsir tongue?"

Loki smiled, but it was touched with a grimace as he beat back more memories. "Íss."

* * *

#

* * *

**WHEN** LOKI HEARD that there were jötnar coming from all over the realm to the court at the end of the month to attend an official ceremony where he would be presented and claimed as Laufey's son, he had been far from happy. Helblindi had been delighted when Laufey had announced it to them at the dawn meal a few nights after his and Loki's quiet meeting in his chambers, jumping on his chair and dancing with joy.

"That means a feast, and I'm old enough to attend, now!" he crowed. "And all my friends will be coming, too!" At Loki's lack of a reaction, Helblindi's excitement faltered a notch. "What's wrong?"

In all honesty, Loki was wondering just what jötnar did at feasts, as he had had no idea that such a custom existed on Jötunnheimr. He saw Býleistr looking at him with a superior eye, so he said to cover himself, "Let's just say the last feast I was at … well, I'm unlikely to be invited back by its host."

"Why?" Býleistr said.

"Wouldn't you just love to know?" Loki said sardonically. "It's quite the story, but there are children present, here. I'll tell you when you're older, Býleistr sweetheart." He smiled widely at Býleistr's look of fury and he turned his attention back to his plate, smirking. Technically, the whole thing was a bluff, as it had been Thor who'd passed out drunk, tried to grab the host's daughter most inappropriately and it was Loki who'd had to drag him back to Glaðsheimr, but not after stopping several times so his br … so Thor could throw up in back allies whilst gurgling nonsense. But Loki had to concede that he wouldn't be invited back, seeing how he was what he was: jötunn.

"Loki, you shouldn't be like this with your brother," Fárbauti said, a hint of scolding in her voice.

"Oh, I'm sorry, _mother_," Loki growled, swinging around to face her, "but maybe if you told him to stop hating me, maybe I would just treat him a little better."

"Oh, my dislike for you isn't without reason, brother dearest," Býleistr said loftily.

"Let me guess, then: you dislike me because of my winning good looks, desirable talents and sense of humour," Loki said.

"I dislike you because of who you are," Býleistr replied, calm. "You are of the royal blood of Jötunnheimr, but you are also someone would commit treason against his family and his people in the blink of an eye for the approval of that murderer Odin."

"Oh don't think I would do it for that bastard," Loki snapped. "I'd do it because you're such a cu—"

Laufey snarled and Loki's words died in his mouth. "You will watch your language."

Loki rolled his eyes and went back to eating his food. Helblindi had found it fascinating how Loki used a knife to cut his food before spearing meat and vegetables on the end and eating it that way. When Loki had shown him the weapon, Helblindi had found it engrossing, although it was nothing but a small pocket knife. Loki had then proceeded to show the small jötunn his variety of throwing daggers, four seaxes and a long knife he kept tucked away in the negative space.

"Loki," Fárbauti said gently, "is there anything in particular you would like to arrange for the nights? It is in your honour, after all."

"Can I skip it?" he asked dryly.

"No," Laufey growled.

Loki wrinkled his nose, stabbing at his food moodily.

"Is there anything else?" Fárbauti said, still trying to coax an answer from him.

"I don't care," Loki said flatly.

Býleistr laughed suddenly and Loki looked at him, not even bothering to hide his intense dislike.

"He has no preferences for the feast because he has no idea what goes on at such things," Býleistr said coldly. "He takes pride in knowing things, and he can't stand it when he doesn't know what's happening around him, so what does he do? Feign indifference."

Loki's hand tightened on the knife handle, shaking with rage. "You know nothing of who I am," he said stiffly.

"Don't I?" Býleistr said, eyes glinting in malice. "I can read you far more easily than you could even think. The way you refuse to look at anyone, yourself included because you hate us for what we are, and you hate yourself, too. Don't think I don't know how you flee back to your chambers and shift your skin to feel 'normal', how you beg for your Gatekeeper and the murderer you call a father to come and take you from us so you can flee back to your golden citadel, or how you cannot even bring yourself to say you cannot even speak Jötunn—"

Loki flung the knife at him. It was never meant for throwing, the balance wrong and so it spun awkwardly before burying itself just shy of Býleistr's hand into the food in front of him. The plate skidded a foot down the table with the force of the throw and Loki stood, trembling with suppressed rage and annoyed he'd missed his intended target. "You know _nothing_ about me," Loki hissed. "Don't even try to see inside my mind; many people have and have failed to."

"Leave," Laufey said, his voice laced with threat as he rose above Loki. "I will not tolerate such behaviour from my sons, much less at my table."

Loki didn't look at him as he left the room. He slammed the door as hard as he could and was immensely satisfied as he heard the hinges crack. His hate for Býleistr was growing every second and every night and he wanted to honestly kill him. _But no_, he thought, chastising himself for his brutish thinking, _that would be far too simple and I have no desire to face the consequences for a few moments of revenge. I am not Thor, Odin made that much clear every second I was with him, and Fárbauti_ was _wanting us to get to know each other better._

A smile twisted his lips as he made his way to the royal wing of the castle. Býleistr had rightly said he knew nothing of what happened at jötunn feasts; maybe Loki would introduce him to some of the customs found of the feasts of the Æsir, especially the ones he was invited to; after all, what was fun without a smattering of Chaos? He crossed to his chamber door unthinkingly, opening it on the maidservant who had brought him food a few nights previously as she was straightening the furs on his bed.

She jumped badly as he entered, whirling around and sinking into a low curtsy. "My lord, I was just cleaning—"

"Can you read the All-Tongue?" Loki snapped at her.

"Can I re—? Y-yes, I can."

"Good." The table he had converted into a desk after shoving it against one of the walls and he snatched up a charcoal stylus and sheet of some sort of thick parchment and began to scribble down a list. The maidservant hovered by the bed, turning her hands over and over as Loki was writing.

When he finished, he walked over and thrust the list towards her. "I want you to get me these items as quickly and as quietly as possible."

"But my lord, some of these things we cannot get," she said nervously, her eyes trailing down the list, brow furrowed in confusion. "_Many_ of these things."

"Then find the closest substitutes you can. Bring them to me before the first meal tomorrow, and make sure no one sees you. Are my wishes clear?"

"Yes, my lord," she said, descending into another low curtsy.

Loki nodded in approval. "Good. Now go."

* * *

**Writing this chapter was _hard_, let me tell you now. Overall, I'm okay with it, but not particularly thrilled. But it had to be done seeing as how important it was; it's not every day you're reunited with your biological mother who you haven't seen for a millennium, let alone didn't know knew existed. And I just found it really difficult to judge what Loki would do. Honestly, all I wanted to make him do was embrace Farbauti and find himself a good solid rock to build up from, but the poor boy's just too shocked and confused at the moment; maybe later. Maybe Helblindi will be the rock instead, as he's the person Loki is getting attached to the fastest.**

**I'm not too sure about the snark-off Loki and Byleistr have earlier in the chapter about the Sleipnir thing. My favourite type of snark is something which is _very_ witty, kind of like _Blackadder_ level, and I just think it fell flat, here. _Blackadder_ has the _best_ snark I have ever seen. Rowan Atkinson, you genius~**

**So, Loki's planning stuff for the feast. I'm scared; are you scared? Loki will just probably think his plan is hilarious. He's a difficult thing, really, because he's always, _always_ testing the boundaries to see what he can get away with. Kind of like my little brother.**

**And now, I shall educate you:**

**The All-Tongue is the language Loki speaks in the comics, and I assume in the movies as well seeing as how he addresses the German crowd in _Avengers_ in English. The All-Tongue is translated into the listener's native language through _MAGIC _*wiggles fingers*. The words Helblindi was teaching Loki are Old Norse, and I couldn't find the correct word for mirror; _hyggja_ actually means _see_, as it was the next best thing I could find. Yeah, I suck. Sorry. Google translate should have Old Norse as an option.**

**Hoenir (HIGH-nee) is attested to be Odin's brother. He was one of two hostages given to the Vanir at the end of the Aesir-Vanir War, the other being Mimir. He and Mimir made a great team together and Hoenir was a really awesome general, but when he and Mimir was separated and he was asked for his opinion for battle strategies and stuff, he just came back with responses like, "I'll leave you to decide." The Vanir realise they got the raw end of the deal (as they gave the Aesir some pretty sweet hostages) and beheaded Mimir in revenge and sent it back to Odin. Odin then smeared Mimir's head with herbs to preserve it and gave it the gift of speech, so now Mimir gives you advice and wisdom as a disembodied head at his well if you pluck an eye out for him.**

**Nidhoggr (Nith-HURR-ger) is a serpent or a dragon (depends on the interpretation) which is the closest to evil you find in Norse Mythology. He is wrapped around one of Yggdrasil's three roots and gnaws on it and corpses. He also has bitching matches with the eagle living in Yggdrasil's leaves in Asgard via a squirrel called Ratatoskr.**

**We'll be heading back to Asgard next; it has something which I have been itching to write in it.**

_**–aylithe**_


	4. Chapter Four: The Deceit of House Odin

**First, a response to my Guest review: Thank you, and I'm glad you're liking it! And your English is great, no worries there :)**

**On an important note, school is starting up again on the 29th, and this year is my final year of school. I therefore won't be updating as fast as I have been over the past week and a bit, and I'm sorry about that, but school is important, especially this year. I will try my best to update as best I can, but do not be surprised if weeks start to roll by without so much as a peep.**

**Now, for my usual pre-chapter note of no particular importance:**

**Oh my Lord, I bought the first two books of _The __Wolfsangel_ _Cycle _the other day and holy crap I'm loving it *melts* If you like Vikings and ancient magic rituals where you had to literally be induced into a state of insanity to get answers (what I like to call "real magic"), go and read it.  
**

**But I'm here the write stories of my own. So here's the next chapter. Again, it's short, and I apologise.**

* * *

_**PART ONE – ONCE**_

**CHAPTER FOUR**

* * *

**THOR HAD,** for once in his life, given up fighting. He had made no headway against his father, and their shouting matches, concealed behind closed doors, had gone on for hours. Bellowing, curses and insults had been hurled back and forth between the father and son in unrelenting volleys, and it was through the efforts of the guards that the royals were not overheard by servants crowding around the door to listen.

Loki's absence had been announced to the whole of Asgard the morning following the assault on Jötunnheimr; such a disappearance of one of the royal family would not go unnoticed. Missing, was the story that had been put out. The truth of what had happened on the frozen realm could hardly be told, for both political reasons and out of respect to Loki's deepest secret, and one he alone had the right to divulge. The Warriors Three and Sif had been sworn to secrecy about the subject of Loki's heritage, and they had been detached from the rest of Asgard, retiring to private rooms in Glaðsheimr. Thor joined them sometimes in their discussions about what had happened, a silent and angry presence which had set them on edge. Talk was either of Loki over the years, his relationship with Thor or of how to get him back. Thor was an active part in these particular debates, but there were simple reasons they did not act on their ideas. The first of these was that the Allfather had forbidden it. Their deception had warranted a constant around the clock watch, as their trust had been lost. The second was that they feared for what other undesirable outcomes could come about if their plans and actions were made in haste once again. They were not close to Loki like Thor was, but the sheer gravity about the situation did not leave them unaffected. They were also Thor's dearest friends, and they could see the prince was suffering.

"There was nothing that could have been done," Sif told him constantly, hand on his shoulder and rubbing his back in comfort. Thor might have objected to her coddling of him at one point, but he was too grief stricken to so much as give a shrug of protest. He spoke little as well, through unwillingness and the damage that had been taken to his throat from his almost daily shoutings.

"It was my fault," Thor kept saying to her in a hoarse and broken whisper, a hand on her waist as they sat together on the cushions of the window seat overlooking Asgard from the private room. The Warriors Three had left them for the evening meal, and Thor was grateful for their absence. Men were good for company, but they were not good for sitting beside a brooding prince. "If I had not been so hasty, so arrogant and so in want of battle, we would not have gone, and Loki's secret would still be buried deep, and we would still both be ignorant of the truth."

Sif did not deny his words; he was glad of that, for she knew as well as he did the truth behind the words. Telling him he could not have stopped it would have angered him greatly, but Sif was too intelligent a woman for that.

"It was a cruel thing to hide from the both of you, from him in particular," Sif said, "but it was for—"

"'For his own good'?" croaked Thor. "You don't know Loki as I do, Sif, and I can only imagine his thoughts. His mind is a strange place; he always looks upon the world in a unique way, processing what is before him and dwelling on what is said in company. We spend all of our childhood together, inseparable; surely you remember?"

"He was stuck to you as much as you were stuck to him," Sif said, a smile creeping around her lips.

"And that will come back to bite him. I always did things, and he hung back and observed. And I said some truly terrible things about the Frost Giants in our youth, driven by arrogance and a desire to live up to my father's name. I talked about killing them all, and we used to play games around the palace seeking Frost Giants to slaughter; surely you remember that, too?"

"How could I forget such times?"

"But now, since he knows the truth, I fear for his state of mind, for the hate that he will be experiencing towards himself." Thor clenched his fist and the hand on Sif's waist tightened. "I don't know how he fares; Father is afraid to send Huginn and Muninn to spy for fear that the jötunns will sense them and assume a plot to get Loki back."

"But he has Hliðskjálf and Heimdallr's eyes if not the eyes of his ravens," Sif said as reassuringly as she could.

"Indeed he does, but he cannot ask Heimdallr to watch over Loki only. Heimdallr has to watch over ten trillion souls, and we have all discovered how deep our king's sense of duty runs." The bitterness in his voice couldn't have been overlooked.

"Surely he watches his son from his throne."

"For no more than a few minutes each day."

"It is better than none at all," Sif soothed, widening the circles she rubbed into his back.

A knock came at the door and a trio of servants entered, balancing platters of food in their hands upon mahogany trays. They said nothing to either of the warriors as they placed to steaming food on the centre table and they quickly left, closing the doors quietly behind them.

Sif got up and went to the food, casting an eye over what was there and picking up a plate. Thor watched her pile some cold meats onto it, a couple of slices of bread which she slathered with cheese and finished the meal off with a bunch of grapes. She crossed back to him and thrust the plate at him. "Eat, Thor."

"I don't want to."

"You must; eating now of all times is important."

"I'm not hungry."

"My prince, I will not have this petty argument with you now. You will eat willingly, or I will force it down your throat, am I clear?" Her eyes softened and she gave a smile grimace. "Ignoring your meals will not help Loki in any shape or form."

"I'm not hungry," Thor protested. "How can I be on this eve of nights?"

Sif was not one for tears, and her eyes were hard even when Thor took the plate from her and started to eat slowly, choking the food down such was his reluctance.

"I know it's been a hard three weeks for you and your family, Thor," she said, trying to comfort him, "but tomorrow, it is vital you are well rested and fed."

"I won't be able to sleep tonight, knowing what the morrow brings," Thor said softly. "Tell me, Sif, if it was your brother's send-off, would you be able to sleep?"

_Send-off_ was the way Thor had avoided saying _funeral_ over the past few days. After nearly a month of silence from Jötunnheimr on Loki, and with his official missing status being unresolved, it had come to, as the royal family had known it would come to, to assume Loki was dead. It was necessary to complete the deception. That was all Loki's life had become in their hands: one deception after another and going back to when he had been a baby.

"I will not lie to you," Sif said, retaking her seat next to Thor and laying her hand on his jaw, "that is Loki's forte, so I will be honest with you now: I do not know how to answer your question, as I have no brothers or sisters myself, so I do not know how you feel."

"Will you try to empathise with me, as many have already tried?"

"I won't, for I would not know where to start."

"I needed to hear your words," Thor said in that small voice again. "I am tired of people trying to see into my head." He laid a hand against her cheek and leant forwards. He brushed his mouth against hers, their lips touching for only the smallest fraction of time before he pulled away again. He needed help, and he was not going to go to his father for it; his father had done enough damage already. And his mother … his mother had not spoken once; there would be no help there.

Sif did nothing to stop him, and he felt her lashes against his face as she closed her eyes at the contact. "I am glad to be able to provide them," she murmured. She pulled away, looking from Thor to his plate and breathing in deeply. "Please, eat." She laid her hand over his and he did as she asked.

* * *

#

* * *

**THE** DRUM BEATS were slow and they filled Asgard's streets, made in time to the footsteps the hundreds of Æsir as they made their way to the waterfront. Unlit candles were held in many hands, the white of the wax starkly visible against the black linens and leathers of the mourners. The lights of the stars and the distant shine of the other realms were the only sources of light for Asgard, and it made the city eerily beautiful.

Thor was not looking at the mourners, but rather his eyes were on the small ship bobbing against its moorings twenty paces from where he stood. It was empty but for a single raised dais in its centre where a body was to lay. Next to him were his mother and father, each dressed in deepest black. Odin's golden helmet and armour gleamed in the low light; in his hand was Gungnir; on his shoulders, Huginn and Muninn were liquid shadows, the birds sat unnaturally still. At his feet lay Geri and Freki, and the wolves' collars shone dully. Frigga's face was mostly hidden by a veil, but Thor could see through the thin fabric, if barely. His mother did not cry; her head was held high, her shoulders were thrown back and there was a steely look in her eye which she focused on neither her husband nor her son. Her only movement was the subtle twisting of her hands; distress, Thor read it as. Her hair flowed freely behind her, and a simple, small plait of her gathered fringe was all that decorated it, held in place by an obsidian bead.

Thor himself was dressed in dark armour. His red cape was gone, as were the scale sleeves that had been replaced by finely worked leather and metal vambraces, carved with knotwork and runes. His hair was pulled back into a tail, loose strands waving lazily in front of his face in the light wind off the water, but he did nothing to push them away when they caught in his eyes and mouth. He wore a cloak of black wool, subtly edged with silver thread which was fastened on his left shoulder with a silver brooch. Mjøllnir hung at his side, a comfortable weight. Next to him was Sif in her finest battle armour, her hair a curtain of rippling night in the slight wind and her eyes were lined with dark kohl. Had the situation not been so grim, Thor would have thought her to be beautiful, and some part of him, the part that hoped so savagely for the return of Loki such that it could not be dimmed, acknowledged the thought for him.

He didn't look to her as the first of the Einherjar came through the crowd. There were six of them, bearing a litter on which the body of the deceased would usually rest. But since there was no body to burn, there was instead a finely wrought sword, made especially for the occasion, a green shield decorated with a snake in gold paint and Loki's horned helm. The litter had been strewn with flowers as well in an effort to fill it. The litter was placed on the dais and the Einherjar backed away, gold cloaks stirring in the faint breeze.

An old woman stepped through the silent streets next, and Thor, although he had seen her before, could not stop looking at her strangeness. Her skin was bone white, so much so it shone in the soft lights of the universe; it was drawn over her body, every bone prominent in her face and hands. Her eyes were thickly lined with dark kohl, bringing out the pale blue of the irises. She was dressed head to toe in black, bone beads on long necklaces clicking and swaying with her movements. Her steps were so smooth she looked to be gliding towards the little ship. Her breath was a cold footprint on the night air as she raised her arms high above her head; they trembled slightly.

"I, acting as the Angel of Death, call to the Norns. Hear my voice, and listen to my words. You have woven your threads as you have seen fit, and the life of Prince Loki, Son of Odin, Son of Bórr, has passed from the world of the living to the world of the dead. His spirit has left this world, and so his body will follow." She turned back to the hill, watching the Einherjar come slowly down the path. Each warrior was in single file and each held an object to his chest. Clothes, instruments, books, weapons, furniture, wines, food, furs and miscellaneous objects were cradled gently in their arms.

"Loki, Son of Odin, owns a woollen cloak which will keep him warm in the afterlife, woven from the finest of threads and it will serve him well. He owns an overcoat of metal and leather, and it will serve him well. He owns a set of fine armour, and it will serve him well. He owns—"

Each object was named and placed on the boat surrounding the dais, arranged artfully and neatly until the haul had dropped several inches in the water from the weight of it. Flowers were laid throughout the possessions, all the things had been carefully picked and chosen for display only, whilst Loki's more prized and valued things were put into storage quietly. Petals were cast by the crowd gathered on the Bifröst, and they flitted through the air like heavy flakes of snow, making ripples in the calm water as they touched the glassy surface. They fell on Thor and Sif, too, but they made no move to brush them off.

Once the boat was full, the Angel stepped towards it and drew a knife from her belt, beckoning the royal family forward. Odin stepped forth first and held out his palm. The Angel touched the tip of the knife to it and drew a line down; blood welled.

"I give you my blessings, Loki Odinson," he murmured, flicking the blood across the boat before retreating.

Frigga stepped forward and offered her palm. She threw her blood onto the boat and gave her blessings, too. And then it was Thor's turn to step forward. He did not wince when the knife cut his hand, hardly feeling the pain at all and he turned, putting a divot in the pebbly ground as he went to the boat to mingle his blood with those of his parents.

"Loki Odinson," he said softly. _Lies; he is Laufeyson_, a voice whispered to him, but he shut it out angrily. "I give you my blessings, brother." _And I send you my luck, strength and happiness; may they find you in whatever dark place you preside in now._

He retreated, going to stand next to Sif once again and she laced her fingers through his. His gripped her hand, glad for her.

The Angel lifted her head and began to sing in a language he could not understand. He had been told they were of loss and were bidding the departed luck in the afterlife. The six Einherjar that had borne the litter pushed the boat out onto the sea and it cut through the water silently. Now the candles the mourners held flickered into life through a powerful magic, climbing to the very back of the crowd which stretched to the palace. When the boat was a ways out, an Einherji next to the royal guard drew a bow nocked with a flaming arrow, aimed and fired. It soared through the air and landed squarely in the middle of the ship. It quivered for a second before the boat caught alight.

The Angel's high voice rang through the air as the boat sailed further into the sea, the fire reducing the boat and the things upon it to ashes. Soon, it reached the edge of the realm. Odin lifted Gungnir and brought it down once, the sharp clack of the metal on the stone beneath their feet echoing in every corner of Asgard. The boat did not fall off the edge, but rather sailed on before dissolving into the stars. Thor's eyes were dry, and he looked to Sif and found in shock her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears; he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and she squeezed his fingers back.

_I'm here,_ the squeeze said.

They watched until the boat was completely gone, drowning in the siren song of the Angel as she continued her lament to hide the deceit of the House of Odin.

* * *

#

* * *

**THE** WAKE THAT night was a subdued affair. No one talked much out of respect to the hosts. Thor thought angrily about how light-hearted it was anyway, with bawdy jokes and glory stories being told by the drunken men overshadowing the real reason for this: Loki. Loki had never been loved by the people as Thor was, being a quiet person who preferred the solidarity of his own thoughts over the company of others. It had been a source of relentless teasing over their childhood by Thor, but when he thought of it now, he only felt a deep sense of shame wash over him.

"But I was not fooled," Thor could hear Fandral saying down the table, smiling stupidly at a serving maid he had managed to place on his thigh. "This rare beauty wouldn't let me get around the other side of her; she kept shying back from me as she asked to marry me. I had suspicions for what she was, and so I darted around her and my fears were confirmed: her back was as hollow as a rotten tree's."

"An elf?" the woman gasped.

"Nay, for below the hole flicked the tail of an oxen. And when I saw it, her face changed into something terrifying to behold. But I was not scared. I drew my sword and chopped the huldra's tail off."

The woman clapped, snuggling herself into Fandral's side and gazing up at him with sickly adoration. "You truly are brave, Fandral the Dashing."

"I'm not hungry," Thor muttered suddenly, pushing his chair back and rising from his picked at plate. Sif, changed from her armour and now wearing a floor-length silver dress, gave him a questioning look from a couple of seats away. Frigga also watched him leave, but spoke not a word to him. She brushed her fingers against his lower arm as he passed her, and he put his hand over hers, giving a small smile before he disappeared through to an antechamber.

He strode blindly through Glaðsheimr, meeting no one in his wanderings. He just needed to walk, and he walked through the corridors and rooms with no destination in mind; all he knew he needed to do was to work off the energy his body was so desperate to rid itself of. It also provided a welcome distraction as he pushed open doors, made decisions about which fork in the corridor to take, which floor to climb the stairs to. His thoughts wanted to stray to Loki and the boat which had been devoid of his body. He bit at his knuckles at the thought of Loki alone and freezing in Jötunnheimr.

An image came to him of Loki curled up and shivering in front of Laufey's throne, stared down by hundreds of jötunns entered his mind's eye. They pointed at him, their laughter like tumbling rocks and cracking ice and their eyes glowing bright red in the dark. He saw Laufey stand and saunter towards Loki, picking him up by the jaw and lifting him high enough for his feet to leave the ground. Thor feared he'd choke.

"You are _my_ son," Laufey said in an echoing voice. "You have no family in Asgard; I am your family, your monster father, and that over there is your monster mother." He pointed at a jötunn behind him, a faceless woman with skin the colour of woad. "You are the Prince of Jötunnheimr. Hail the King of Monsters."

"Hail," the jötunns echoed distantly. "Hail Loki Laufeyson, King of Monsters."

"Look at yourself."

Loki's skin was turning blue and he looked wildly back at Thor, helpless as his eyes changed from green to red.

The imaginings made Thor feel physically ill and he stumbled, hand reaching out to steady himself against a wall. He closed his eyes, commanding the trembles to leave his body and his breathing to deepen.

_Calm yourself_, he snapped. But even with the stern words, it took a while for the tremors to cease.

After recollecting his thoughts, Thor straightened up, glancing around to identify where he was. He was outside the throne room, and he could hear the feast a flight of stairs below. How far had he walked? He didn't know.

The guards outside the throne room drew their glances away from him and, on a small instruction from Thor, opened the door for him. Thor stepped inside and the doors boomed shut behind him. The long hall stretched into the dark, the only sources of light being bracketed torches placed every twenty paces or so along the hall. Thor's steps echoed as he walked towards the throne and he looked up from the bottom of the dais.

Hliðskjálf; the All-Seeing Throne. It was as if Thor had subconsciously decided to do this at the beginning of his walk as he ascended the steps, turning on his heel when he reached the top and gazing across the hall. He would stand here as king one day, he thought. But the idea of kingship seemed sickening to him now after Jötunnheimr. How could he lead the people when he had failed so miserably with only five at his command and lost his brother to Laufey?

_"… I hate that the price of your idiocy was the cost of the one thing you hold so dear to yourself."_

Odin's words tore at him and Thor gritted his teeth. He sat down on Hliðskjálf. It was a powerful relic, Thor knew that, but he hadn't known what to expect when he sat upon it. It seemed wake when he rested on it, to whisper to him as it stirred from the slumber it had been in. It seeped into his mind, a presence which couldn't be described as a conscious, Thor thought; rather, it was like a sigh of wind that seemed to brush its way into his brain, prodding and poking at his mind and Thor steeled his resolve, trying his best to ignore the spine chilling sensation it was imposing on him.

"I am Thor Odinson, heir to the throne of Asgard," he said loudly. "I demand to be shown Loki Od— … Loki Laufeyson."

Hliðskjálf seemed to jab into his brain and pull him forward. Thor's grip on the arms tightened and he cried out as his mind was shot forward, his vision blurring as the stars and realms of Vanaheimr and Alfheimr went shooting past him. Jötunnheimr came into view and Thor was coming in on it so fast he thought he was going to crash into the surface without the use of the Bifröst—

He lurched to a halt at once and he gasped at the sudden jerk; it was dizzying. He could feel himself still seated on Hliðskjálf, but it was a distant sensation, no more than a bleak distraction at the back of his mind. He had a bird's eye view on the room below him, a room of finery judging from its size and the quality of the goods within it. Thor soon realised it was a child's room we was looking into; toys lay about the floor and the careless mess of discarded clothes, books and other items reminded him of his own chambers in his childhood. On the bed sat two jötunns, one of them a small boy seated between the legs of a bigger, lankier jötunn with huge curved horns arching from his brow.

But no matter what he looked like, Thor could recognise Loki in a heartbeat. His throat felt thick with emotion as he looked upon his younger brother, and the awful truth as to what his blood really was exposed to the world. He looked jötunn, too; a loincloth of fur, ringmail and leather fell to his knees and his hair was no longer as slicked back as it had one been; it was freer looking, locks of it tied into thin plaits which hung past his ears and strung with metal and clay. Thor had to concede this jötunn Loki had a beauty about him, though. From the limited view of his face, hindered by the angle he was viewing the scene at and the horns, Thor could see the lines of the jötunn peoples etched across his skin, rough callous-like ridges lining his sharp cheekbones, brows and jawline.

The smaller jötunn was speaking, looking at Loki excitedly as he held something in his hands. Hliðskjálf did not offer its observer sound, and it was a huge disappointment for Thor. His eyes found themselves on the smaller jötunn, now. He looked somewhat similar to Loki, and he noticed his nose crinkled in that same smirk Loki wore and Thor's gut wrenched at the sight.

_His brother by blood?_

Their markings were the same, and Thor had been told by one of his tutors that the jötunns markings were the lines of their Houses. It was one of the only things he remembered from that lesson because he had promptly received a wack across the knuckles with a book spine when he had still refused to acknowledge the tutor.

The small jötunn showed Loki what was in his hands, grinning. Loki's hand lifted to take it, and he plucked it with slender fingers from the boy's palm. Thor craned his neck to see what it was, but—

"Thor? Thor!"

His sight began to pull back from the room and Thor cried out. No, he couldn't be taken out of the vision yet! He thrashed, trying to fight against the person shaking his shoulders as he flew back through the universe, leaving Jötunnheimr as a speck of pale blue in the distance until it could not be seen and Thor howled with rage.

"Thor, you must come back! You cannot sit on Hliðskjálf much longer!"

Thor opened his eyes and he jerked. His fingers were stiff and painful, his arms cramped badly from gripping the throne's arms so tightly. He lurched sideways, sliding off the throne and into a pair of strong arms that supported him gently.

"Thor, you fool."

"Why did you pull me back, father?" Thor croaked.

"Hliðskjálf is not something to be wielded lightly, my son," Odin said calmly. He put a finger under Thor's nose and, when he drew it back, it was red with blood.

Thor passed the heel of his palm under his nose, noticing the trickling blood which had fallen onto his chest and stained his armour. "Loki has a brother," he continued, uncaring of the state he was in. "Did you know about that?"

"He has two," Odin said. "An older and a younger."

"How many other things are you neglecting to tell me about him?" Thor said, shaking Odin's other hand off as his wits returned to him. "Any long lost sisters as well?"

"No."

"Is his mother still alive, then?"

"Yes, yes she is. Thor, I can understand you're upset over the current matter, from everything that has happened over the past few weeks, but please—"

"Please what?"

"Please try and understand what I have done."

Thor stood, stumbling down the steps and, when he reached the bottom, swaying on the spot, he said quietly, "I dreamt of being like you, ever since I was a child I dreamt I would one day become just like you. But now, if I became like you, I would be ashamed of myself. You, who so easily hand over family and say it was for peace and hide yourself behind the fact he is not your blood. You are a shame to me, father."

He strode away, marching to the doors and throwing them open with a stone shattering _bang!_ Lady Sif was hovering outside and she jumped in alarm. Thor pulled up, tired eyes resting on her and he held his hand out for her silently. She took it. "You were following me." It wasn't a question.

"I have been very worried for your health recently," she said unapologetically. "Your relationship with Loki runs very deeply, and I could see his … absence from your life is taking its toll heavily."

Thor nodded glumly. Sif stopped him, pulling a scrap of cloth from her bosom and wiping the blood from Thor's nose.

"Thank you," he said when she finished.

"I serve my prince," she said simply.

"And I appreciate your service, my friend." His hand went to hers. It was very warm, very unlike Loki's hands that had always been icy and cold, even on blazingly hot summer days.

* * *

**I started this chapter a few times, actually, and despite it being a chapter I was looking forward to writing, I found it immensely difficult to start. I was disappointed greatly in the movie where the whole Loki funeral was skipped after his fall from the Bifrost, and instead you see all the Aesir happy and feasting like nothing had happened *kicks something* No wonder Loki feels second best.**

**Much of this chapter was written to the track from the TV series _Vikings _called "The Angel of Death", especially the funeral scene. If you haven't checked the show out, I suggest you do; I think it's absolutely amazing.**

**Education time:**

**Huginn ****(HOO-gin) **and Muninn (MOO-nin) mean "Thought" and "Memory" respectively and were Odin's ravens. Every day at dawn, they used to fly over the realms and, at dusk, they would return to Odin and tell him of what had transpired over the course of the day. **Geri (Geh-RII (rhymes with 'ferry')) and Freki (Free-KEY) were the wolves of Odin. Their names both mean "The Ravenous One". A theory as to why they are the animals of Odin is that Odin was a god of war, and these creatures were the ones often seen taking pickings from battlefields.**

**The Angel of Death was a figure seen to preside over the funeral of a Viking chieftain as witnessed by the Arab writer Ahmad ibn Fadlan in the 10th century in Scandinavia. I made up the whole process BTW; I have no idea how it was actually done, I just took the Angel ****as the actual funeral takes place over a long period of time, involves the lovely business of a thrall being passed around by a whole lot of men before having her throat slit and being place on the burning boat by her late master to join him in the afterlife. You can probably see why I didn't want to do that here; maybe in another story not related to the Marvel Universe.** But for the whole funeral in all it's historical accuracy you can read up on it on Wikipedia (well, as accurate as you can hope on Wikipedia).

**Huldra are still found in Scandinavian folklore today. They are ethereally beautiful women who have the tails of oxen and hollow backs. They seek out farmers for love. It is said if the farmer were to marry her, her tail would fall off and her back become whole and therefore she would become human. But if the tail was seen before the marriage, the huldra would become terrifying and kill the farmer and then, at a later date, try to win love with a different man.**

**Hlidskjalf was Odin's all-seeing throne; sometimes it is seen as a tower depending on the source you draw your info from. One instance of it being used is when the Vanir god Freyr sat in Hlidskjalf and saw his future wife, Gerdr, from the chair; you can Google the rest of the story; I ain't telling it to you. It was also used by Odin to find Loki after Baldr's death and the events of the Lokasenna.**

**Next chapter, a celebration on Jotunnheimr.**

**—_aylithe_**


	5. Chapter Five: Prince of Monsters

**Yeaaaaaaah, I can write long chapters again; Ch Two wasn't a fluke~**

**As for the reason for the long time in updating, for those of you who didn't see the first AN at the beginning of the last chapter, school has started up for me again, so I can't write as much as I would like. It'll be like this until at least early November. Sorry...**

**On a different note, now, this story is also on AO3. I have the same username there as I do here (aylithe, if you're lazy/can't remember/can't be bothered to notice) if anyone wants to check this out over there.**

**BUT, HERE WE GO:**

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_**PART ONE — ONCE**_

**CHAPTER FIVE**

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**EVEN WHEN THE **CELEBRATIONS AND FEASTS WERE OVER TWO WEEKS AWAY, the castle and surrounding citadel of Útgarða were undergoing huge preparations. Rocks and boulders that had fallen over the centuries were being moved away, leaving the streets, which Loki had to confess had no idea existed, were bare and traffic started to move more easily. Ice was being applied to many surfaces for protection against any further elemental interference and it had the extra effect of making the citadel shine in the light of the twin moons.

Loki had seen several parties of jötnar arrive before Laufey to give him their greetings, each of them diverse in ages, genders and appearance. Some were dressed in fine furs much like the jötnar Loki had seen in the past, wearing battle armour more for show than for actual combat. Some were covered in swirling paints of greyscale tones. Some wore bones in their hair and tusks around their necks. Some were decked in finely crafted gold. He'd be lying if he had said he hadn't been fascinated by them, despite what they were. But at the same time he was disgusted by them. He blanched from the jötnar with the bones in their fashion, watching from the shadows and hardly daring to shift his skin in case he was seen and attacked.

Over the past three days, Loki had not been left alone other than when he was sleeping. He'd had a little difficulty hiding his plans for the celebrations, stashing things away and shielding what he was using with glamours and hoping no one would venture over to the corner of the room he had put aside for the project. Fárbauti had come one evening and sat Loki forcibly in a chair, telling him about what was going to happen to his appearance in regards to the ceremony before the first feast of many. Loki had tried to bolt when four jötunn women came to him and started measuring his waist and shoulders with lengths of rope.

"Hush," Fárbauti said gently, placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't touch me," Loki growled quietly. Fárbauti let him go hesitantly, and Loki fought down the guilt that washed over him. He owed this woman _nothing_.

As for the jötnar buzzing around him, he was as least helpful and as difficult as he could have been. They sat him down and wound things in his hair, strips of leather and metal charms spelled against the cold and he tried to pull away, but one of them held his shoulders down. They continued to measure him as they did this, and if playing with his hair was a distraction to the real meaning of the visit, it worked beautifully. When they were done with him, at least two of them went rather stiffly. Loki didn't care. Fárbauti sighed heavily, pulled a chair out from the table and sat down next to him. Loki shuffled away from her, turning his back.

"Loki," she said, and his shoulders stiffened at her tone, "please, I wish to talk—"

"Talk with someone else," he growled lowly, "for I do not."

Her touch was feather light and he jumped at it. Her fingers ghosted against the back of his neck and he shivered. Her hand moved to his hair and she cautiously laid her palm against it when he did nothing to stop her. He didn't know why it was he didn't protest; perhaps it was because there would be no one there to see him other than her. And deep down, he wanted her affection. Helblindi provided some form of comfort, but Fárbauti … it was different, and it was a difference he so was so hungry for. It was a mother's love.

"How are you finding Jötunnheimr?"

Loki's laugh was a harsh and dry bark. He'd expected her to ask how he was feeling, about how much he was missing Asgard, and this conversation opener wasn't anything unexpected, but it was not something he would have prodded at first. "You wouldn't care," he said. "You did nothing to help me for those first few weeks; you ran from me when you first saw me, and yet you have the nerve to ask how I'm finding it here? I hate it. This place is dark and cold and you jötnar disgust me. I hate you, I hate Býleistr and Helblindi and I hate Laufey fervently. I want this realm to burn, and I want to be the one to light the fire."

"Why do you feel such?"

Loki shot up and smacked her hand away, his eyes narrow and his lip curled. "Do I have to spell it out for you?" he spat. "You beat me, you starve me, you keep me from leaving and you are monsters, every last man, woman and child who has ever had and will ever be born here is such. And I am, too." He stepped away and shifted at the same time, his feet numbing quickly on the cold of the floor and his hands going to his clothes as they slipped and fell around his waist. "You are savages, and I was brought up to believe it is the highest glory to kill jötnar, and then to find out I'm one? My world has been torn apart; every second of my life I have lived a lie, and I hate them, too; the Æsir, Odin, Thor, whoever. I am hideous, disgusting and I deserve nothing more than to die. I am a monster through and through. I may be jötunn by blood, but I am Ás by thought."

Fárbauti said nothing; she made no move to interrupt, no move to surge across to him and clamp his mouth shut, made no move to hurt him like Laufey would have done in a heartbeat. And his temper spiked at the lack of reaction.

"Nothing?" he hissed. "No shouting to me of treason? No attempt to argue a case? Why?!"

"Because I know I would not win." The answer was so simple it stunned him into silence. "My first words to you when I saw you in Laufey's arms when he brought you back in your ruined Asgardian regalia were 'Thank you for returning my son to me'. When he told me of what had transpired minutes before, my heart broke. But the bond a mother has with her child … you cannot describe that fierce love to someone who has not had the joy of having children of their own. I remember the first time I felt you stir within my womb; I remember your first cries as you left it; I remember only love. But I knew from the moment Laufey brought you to me you would reject me, there was never any question in that, and you have told me such yourself with both words and actions of your mindset. And I am sorry that I have put you through such a thing."

Loki faltered when he saw the tears in her eyes, but he quickly regained control over his expression as it slipped the tiniest of degrees. He looked coldly at the jötunn woman as she put a hand to her mouth, her other curling in her lap in a tight fist of stiff fabric and fur. Good, he wanted her to hurt. But he hated the feeling of guilt that rose in his chest and, no matter how hard he tried, he could not banish it. He turned his eyes away, jaw twitching.

"I'm sorry I failed you."

Loki snorted. "Failed because you could not be the mother who saw made her child see his father in such a loving and adoring way? Failed because her child now hates her so dearly?"

"I have failed because it is tearing me apart when I see how you think of yourself."

"I _should_ think of myself like this!" Loki cried. "Look at me!"

"No son of mine should think of himself as a monster."

"I'm not your son," he said viciously. "My mother is the Queen of Asgard, for it was her who was there for me whenever I needed her to be, not you. Stop trying to be her."

"I know I will not be her," she said lowly, "but I hope, with time, you will come to see me as something similar."

"I am not a child," Loki said, "and it is children who run to their mothers."

Fárbauti stood and crossed to his bed. Loki watched her warily as she picked up one of the furs and crouched in front of him. She placed it around his shoulders, a sad smile tugging at her lips. "I may begrudge your choices, but they are yours. Do not freeze, my son; that Ás flesh is so delicate." She traced his jawline with the tip of her finger before she stood up gracefully and went to the door. Loki stood rooted to the spot, angry and confused as she closed the door quietly behind her.

He strode to far side of the room and placed his back against the wall. He slid down it and put his forehead on his knees, biting his lip. He didn't want to think about it. Let him be anywhere but here. He pulled the fur around himself more tightly. He concentrated on his crossed arms laid on his chest, of the pale skin rife with goosebumps and thick veins pounding dark crimson blood through his body. But his mind turned to quickly back to the lie it was. He clenched his fists, overlong nails digging into his palms. Fire sprung to life in his hands and he placed it in front of himself, feeding it energy until he began to warm again.

_"Do not freeze, my son …"_

He hated her for her kindness. His fingers came to one of the leather strips in his hair and he pulled it out, destroying it in his flame wreathed hands and he threw the ashes away with a snarl. The fire grew with his rage and he watched it burn brighter and brighter, breathing heavily as it turned from a single emerald flame into something the size of a large melon, the orange shot through with greens and blues.

Loki smashed his fists into the wall and floor, a scream of rage ripping itself from his throat.

When Byrnja came in hours later, she found the room in ruins and Loki standing in its centre in his Ás skin, his fire burning with rage and pain.

* * *

#

* * *

**THE** HARSH WORDS and treatment from Laufey later that night weren't unexpected. His whole body was aching by the time he was let go and the bases of his horns were especially sore. Loki scowled at the guard that followed him from the throne room, the jötunn's face neutral and eyes never quite meeting Loki's. Loki didn't care, and he strode down the corridor quickly, head held high and not even trying to hide the bruise blossoming on his jaw from Laufey's fist. He was too upset with Fárbauti's words to care much, and his pain was a badge of his honour; he'd stood up to Laufey, and that had left him feeling less jötunn.

The story was spreading fast throughout the palace of what the second prince had done, despite the attempts to keep the incident a secret. He was glad of the averted eyes as he passed jötnar in the corridors, his own eyes set dead ahead. Let them know how he felt; they deserved to know.

"Hey, brother!"

Loki ignored the small voice and his strides grew longer; he didn't want to talk to anybody, least of all his newfound family. He needed time alone.

"Loki—"

"_What?_"he snarled as Helblindi grabbed at his wrist. He whirled around, a dagger materialising in his fingers as he pulled it from the negative space.

Helblindi backed away a little, eyes wide with caution. "I … I heard …"

"The whole castle's heard what happened by now," Loki said irritably, "and I don't give a damn. Let them know; let them know how much I hate this place."

"You hate it here?" Helblindi said, his lip trembling. "It's nice here—"

"It's Hel for me," Loki spat, "and you are not making it any better. Leave me alone."

"But why?"

"Are you really as naïve as Fárbauti?" Loki hissed. "Are you as blind is she is? Everything I have ever known is a lie: my family, my so-called friends, my life and my goals and wants. Just you try and think what it would be like if you were told your father was the thing you always feared, and that the person who you thought was your parent turned on you and left you in his hands to stumble in the dark. When you know what that's like, then you can talk with me."

Helblindi's jaw locked in defiance and his little shoulders stiffened. He turned to the guard and said, "Get my brother some healing salve for the bruise on his face. Bring it to my chambers."

"The king has commanded me to watch over his son."

"And I demand you to go now so you can watch over his wellbeing!" Helblindi snapped. "You have your orders, so carry them out!"

The guard hesitated for a fraction of a second, and he then turned and walked back the way he and Loki had come. Again, there was something so unmistakeably Laufey-like in Helblindi Loki could not help but see their relation.

Loki snorted with derision, turned his back and continued on his path.

"Loki, stop."

"I am not someone who you can command," Loki said, not stopping or even glancing back over his shoulder. "I'm your senior by four and a half centuries."

"But I came to talk to you."

"And I didn't come to talk to the likes of you. Now leave me alone."

Helblindi dashed around Loki and planted himself firmly in the middle of the corridor, lip trembling with defiance. "I came to talk to you for a reason, and you will listen to me, older brother or not."

"My brother is Thor; you are someone I have known for a month."

"I'm trying to help you!"

"And I don't want your help."

Helblindi screeched, "I don't get you, Loki! Yesternight, you and I were friends, and today you're being … you're being like this!"

"Oh, I wonder why?" Loki bit at him.

"I just want two minutes of your time, and then you can go and sulk in a corner until the celebrations; I don't care anymore! I'm trying to be nice to you, and yet you lash out like this and I don't even know why I try!"

"Then stop trying."

"I will, after I've given you something."

"What? Another talking to?"

"A gift; something I made for you. Now come on."

Helblindi pivoted on his heel and marched away, casting a glance over his shoulder to make sure Loki was following him. Loki did follow – only because he had become so lost in the twisting corridors he saw this as an easy way to find a place he was familiar with within the castle – and the two of them didn't speak a word to each other until Helblindi has pushed open the doors to his chambers and clambered onto his bed a few minutes later.

"Sit," he said, jabbing a finger at Loki's usual spot against the headboard.

Loki flung himself down, every line in his body taut as Helblindi retrieved something stashed under the furs on the bed.

"Here," Helblindi said forcibly. He held his hand out. In it was a pebble on a leather thong. Scratched on the pebble was a snarling wolf's head. "It's for courage," Helblindi said, looking stonily at Loki. "I thought it might help you for the feast, because I get scared when I have to stand in front of people."

"Thank you," Loki said stiffly. He gripped it tightly in his hand, but made no movement to put it on.

A knock on the door had Helblindi up from the bed and he wrenched it open. The guard stood outside, holding a small spelled tin tightly.

"My princes," the guard said with a bow.

Helblindi took it from the guard and thrust it at Loki. "Put all of it on; I've had lots of bruises from training fights and this clears them up within a couple of hours."

Loki took this too as he stood from the bed, this time without a word of thanks. "Now leave me be," was all he said as he shouldered his way through the door. He half ran around a corner and, before the guard could catch up with him, he pulled the thong over his head, the pebble coming to rest over his heart.

* * *

#

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**WHEN** THE FIRST night of the celebrations came two weeks later, Loki was woken during the mid-afternoon, the equivalent of a dawn rising in Asgard. He rose stiffly as Byrnja gave a low curtsy and gestured to the antechamber of Loki's newly repaired quarters. "Please, in here. Your things are ready."

Loki slugged his way over, standing with his back to the main room as the four jötunn women who had been helping him prepare for the feast bustled into his chambers. They had with them several new furs, a set of silver chainmail armour and other articles of clothing he didn't get a good look at before they were onto him. He didn't fight their advances, only closed his eyes and told himself they would be finished with him soon.

They set to work at once, stripping him naked of his previous loincloth and quickly fastening a new one around his waist. This was backed by silver scale armour, the newly tanned leather and furs reaching past his knees and the metal clinked softly as he shifted his weight from leg to leg. His hair was freed from all its previous tyings and brushed forcibly from his face before locks of it were rewrapped with gold thread and hung with uru decorations. Armour plates were rested on his shoulders, held together by bright chainmail stretched across his shoulders. This was then connected to his loincloth with a leather belt stretching from shoulder to hip, knotwork was carved beautifully and delicately into it and the edges traced with gold filigree. Metal and leather vambraces were strapped to his forearms, bound tightly into place with long leather strips. The last things to be bestowed upon him were bands of gold which were slid to his upper arms and onto his horns. A final touch was a quick spell which accentuated the scarred lines of House Laufey.

"You look every bit a prince," one of the jötunn women said with a bow of her head.

The smoothed and polished wall of obsidian which served as a mirror – as it was far too cold to having anything bigger than Helblindi's small sliver of mirror shard else it would crack – showed Loki just that. He looked regal, that was something that could not be said otherwise and his jaw tightened at that stray thought. He looked like the enemy more than ever. His eyes were positively glowing red and the pearly scars stood out far more than usual, the raised bumps hugely noticeable under his fingers, now.

"You are to wait here."

Loki looked away from himself to see the women had left and two guards had taken their places at the door. They looked coldly at Loki who ignored them, much more interested in the food left on the table. He ate languidly, dread slowing the routine movements; dread because, he knew, there was no recovering from something like this. Asgard had given him up and Jötunnheimr had reclaimed him; after tonight, he was to be bound to this realm and its peoples beyond even his dying breath. His hand found the wolf's head pebble at his throat, blissfully thankful it had not been taken from him. If he needed courage more than ever, it was now.

When Loki was nervous, he read. When he was very nervous, or had no form of literature accessible to him, he paced. He could hear the castle around him buzzing with activity and it was around the midnight meal he could hear throngs of jötnar assembling at the castle along what had once been the main road. Loki didn't dare to look out the window, for fear of what he would see beyond it. It was maybe half an hour later he heard Laufey begin to address the crowds in Jötunn. Loki had been given what was essentially a crash course over the past few weeks by not only Helblindi, but by an older jötunn as well. He was a very quick learner, his mind being able to absorb the new language remarkably fast so, by the first week's end, he could stumble few a few phrases with a good accent. He'd then been taught, word for word, what he was expected to say at the ceremony before the first feast, and had been made to practice it until he sounded like he'd spoken the language his whole life.

"People of the Ice, Children of Ymir," Laufey was saying, "I stand here before you with the pride of a king, and the pride of a father."

Loki was taken by the upper arms by the guards, and he shrugged them off with a snarl. He'd been surprised his pacing hadn't worn a long and narrow trench in the floor. The inside of his cheek was numb from him biting on it, and small wells of blood were open on his palms from where he had dug his nails into his flesh. The small bites of pain had been a welcome distraction. He held his head high as he walked through the corridors, one guard in front of him and the other behind. He was half planning to bolt as they descended the levels to the courtyard where Thor had led them on that stupidly fateful storming of Jötunnheimr, but he was all too aware of the sharp ice weapons the jötnar could form on their limbs in the blink of an eye.

Much of Laufey's speech had been given by the time the guard's stopped him a few paces from the open air. Loki had been listening on the way down, and much of what was being said he didn't understand, but he got the general meaning well enough: Laufey was ridiculing the Æsir, mocking them for their past attacks, for Thor's recent one and denoting the Æsir as monsters. Substitute some of the words, Loki thought, it could have been a speech presented by Odin or any other Æsir general.

"The Æsir, the _Asgardians_, tore through our realm a millennium ago and destroyed our cities, our ice and our land. The people suffered terrible losses; some of them your friends and family who we all still mourn, and the Allfather took from me much more than the Casket of Ancient Winters, the Fornvétr. Until a month ago, we all lived in the belief he had killed my newly born second son in his brutal conquest, but I am proud to admit what I believed was wrong. My son still lives, and he has returned to me."

Loki could see Laufey standing in the alcove of his throne, Fárbauti next to him and Býleistr and Helblindi on either side. Each was dressed in their finest. The rulers wore crowns of gold upon their brows, embedded with silver white diamonds which shimmered like ice in the moonlight. Laufey's usual armour had been replaced by a full shirt of mail, white furs around his waist and silver vambraces and greaves on his forearms and shins. Around his horns he also wore bands of gold. Fárbauti looked radiant. Around her shoulders was a cloak of white mink fur which trailed along the floor behind her and it glittered with frost. Her hair was woven with gold thread, draped over her shoulder and it shone like obsidian. Rings glinted on her fingers and a collar of solid gold flashed at her throat. Helblindi and Býleistr wore similar dress to Loki, but Býleistr had a thin band around his brow of gold.

"Your prince, my son, second heir to the throne of Jötunnheimr, His Highness, Loki Laufeyson."

He was given a small prod in the back and Loki pushed down the urge to hiss at the guard responsible. He collected himself and strode into the light, head held high and his horns beared for all to see. He would not be weak. He swallowed his fear when he saw the thousands of jötnar in front of him.

_I am Loki of Asgard, and I will not show weakness to these savages._

He took a stance next to Laufey, refusing to look at him and the jötnar beneath him. Instead, he fixed his gaze on the horizon, and addressed the star he had focused on to avoid speaking directly to the jötnar:

"I am Loki, second born to Laufey Nálson, King of Jötunnheimr." The words meant nothing to him; he said them as clearly and with the best accent he could, but it was merely recited from memory without much thought; he was much more focused on the star. He had delivered so many mind numbing speeches rife with political and social lies during his life that this was just another menial thing that had to be done. "I was held by the Æsir and lied to by them, made to believe I was a Son of Odin—"

_I am of Asgard. I am no Son of Odin, and I will refuse to acknowledge Laufey as my father in my heart—_

"—but I now reclaim my rightful heritage, the heritage of the ice and snow. I am Loki Laufeyson; your prince returned."

—_and I am nothing but a political tool for negotiations, power struggles and breeding; I was never going to be anything but it. Odin would have merely used me to the same extent._

The worst was yet to come, and he knew it. He had doomed himself the day he had given into Laufey's demands as he starved.

The jötnar roared, stamping their feet and howling with approval. Laufey grabbed his wrist and thrust his arm into the air, but it didn't escape Loki's notice Laufey's grip was stiff. He did and said nothing of it, but his face was not alive with triumph; he kept his expression neutral, uncaring.

_Play the lie. You're good at that._

"My son!" Laufey said yet again. Loki wished he would stop saying that.

The crowds fell silent when Laufey raised a hand. He gave Loki a stern look and said, "Kneel."

Loki felt a cold claw grab at the pit of his stomach. He knew it had been coming, but it did nothing to dull the blow. _No, please, do not make me do this!_ But Laufey was not famous for his kindness. It was fear that made him obey and he slid to a knee. He was breaking out in cold sweat, fighting against every instinct that he had to _stay put_. He would be beaten down if he tried to run, killed if he tried to harm the royal family, ridiculed if he refused to speak another word, accused of treason when he had given his oath of obedience in his want to live.

"And now for something that should have been done long ago," Laufey said, his low tone spreading to every ear. "Loki Laufeyson, my second born, do you swear to me your loyalty?"

Loki was silent for a second before forcing the words from his mouth. "I … I swear."

"Do you swear me as your rightful and sovereign ruler?"

"I swear."

"And do you swear to uphold your oath until your last breath?"

The silence stretched for a few seconds before Loki said in a hoarse and broken voice, "I swear."

"Rise, Loki Laufeyson, and take your place by my side."

He was just glad he was too far away for anyone but the House of Laufey to see the tremor of utter defeat that shook his body as the Prince of Monsters tried to drown out the savages calling his name.

* * *

#

* * *

**REPRESENTATIVES **OF THE noble houses of Jötunnheimr had been streaming into the recluse of the throne room further into the castle to give Loki their oaths of loyalty to him. He acknowledged each one with a dry whisper of "I have heard your oath to me and I accept it" without so much as a bat of an eye. He was still too numb with despair at his situation to concentrate on what was happening in front of him.

He was seated in the throne next to Laufey's which was usually reserved for Fárbauti, but the queen had retreated into her more inner chambers to entertain the noble women important enough to partake in her company. Býleistr had gone to the feasting hall and Helblindi had followed him on the principle of finding his friends. Loki did his best to ignore the king as he watched from his side as he was given oath after oath.

Another thing he had received in abundance was gifts. Parcels wrapped in fine furs and fabrics and tied with cord had been passed from the giver to him and from him to a servant to store until they had a chance to be opened. He had no curiosity as to what he was given; he was hollow and dead inside.

"My Prince Loki," a jötunn said, shuffling forward on his knees, "My family and I are overjoyed at your safe return to the realm of your birth where you can now reclaim your title and your blood. On the behalf of the House of Dúrnir, I would present to you a gift of the feathers of the Thunderbirds of the south." A servant shuffled forward and presented a bundle of large, electric blue feathers gathered together with a strip of red-grey fur at Loki's feet. He nodded glumly and one of the castle servants took them away. "On behalf of myself and my house, I swear to you the fealty my line and I have sworn to your father and his father before him," the jötunn continued, bowing his head.

"I have heard your oath to me and I accept it," Loki said monotonously. "Rise, Dúrnir, and go to your family."

"Thank you, my most glorious prince," the jötunn said, bowing low and turning to leave.

Loki looked up dismally and internally howled with frustration and rage at how long the line was. All he wanted to do was run, not sit here and receive gifts and oaths that were meaningless to him. He wanted to run as far away from Laufey and Útgarða as he could and stay there; he wanted to run to the other side of Yggdrasil, to the fiery fields of Múspelheimr where any pursuing jötnar would have no dream of retuning alive from … to Asgard and back to when everything had been normal. If only Loki had avoided being grabbed by that jötunn; if only the guard he had sent to Odin had reached him in time; if only Thor hadn't been such an arrogant prick; if only he hadn't let the jötnar into Asgard; if only Odin had seen Thor was not ready for the throne; if only Thor hadn't grown up so selfish and vain; if only he had been killed as a babe from Odin's mercy. If, if, if … that was a lot of ifs. The Norns must hate him.

"My lord prince, I, Thrasir of the House of the same name, bear the gift of the pelt of a moon wolf, kin to Hati Hróðvitnisson, kin to the terrible Fenris Wolf." He showed a shimmering silver wolf skin to Loki, the eyes made of hard glass and the teeth refined with magic. "I, Thrasir, offer you my oath of loyalty on behalf of my house as well as myself."

"I have heard your oath to me and I accept it. Rise, Thrasir, and go to your family."

It was another two hours before the last of the jötnar saw Loki and by the end of it, he was exhausted. Laufey rose with him and Loki glared tiredly at the king. He was miserable.

"You need food," Laufey had said confidently as they followed an escort through the castle to the feast hall.

"I need to be left alone, especially by you," Loki growled in the All-Tongue.

"You won't be alone for a long time yet," Laufey said. He backed Loki against the wall and said, his voice laced with threat, "So much as put a _toe_ out of line over the next few days, and I will make sure you regret it, am I understood?"

"Clearly," Loki said, his own tone menacing. "I'll be sure not to put too many toes over the line. Wouldn't want you to look bad, would we?"

"I want none to cross it."

"An impossible request for the likes of me. Always was one, too."

"You swore me an oath of obedience in front of ten thousand jötnar, and I expect it to be upheld."

"Alright," Loki said coldly, "I swear I won't cross any lines for you. Are you satisfied now?"

Laufey looked down at him for a few seconds, eyes narrowed with suspicion. Finally, after what seemed like minutes to Loki, Laufey turned and continued on his way. Loki exhaled before he sensed the guards take their places behind him.

"Come, prince," one of them said.

Loki didn't need telling twice. He followed after Laufey, padding down the icy corridor in near silence. The sounds of revelry grew louder and louder as they came closer to the feasting hall and Loki found himself outside a set of imposing double doors of black metal which stood three times his height. They were ice encrusted and it gave them an extra sheen. The royal family was waiting outside the doors. Býleistr didn't look to Loki as he slid alongside them, instead focused on the doors with a set expression on his face. Loki spared no eyes for him, but he saw Fárbauti looking at him out of the corner of his eye. He refused to make eye contact with her. Laufey seemed to have finished with him by then, and the only sign he gave of Loki's arrival was to face forward and hold his arm out for his queen. Helblindi was visibly shaking with excitement. His barely contained grin failed to entirely hide his snowy teeth and he shifted his weight from foot to foot almost every second. He looked quickly to his older brother, but his expression fell a notch at the sight of him; Loki suspected he still hadn't quite forgiven him for his harsh words.

"When you are ready, your highness," a guard manning the door said to the king.

Laufey waved them open, and the jötnar on either side pushed the huge slabs of metal open with audible creaks.

"His Majesty the King Laufey Nálson, Lord Ruler of the Snows and Skies of Jötunnheimr," a herald announced, "and Her Majesty the Queen Fárbauti Káradóttir, Mother of the Ice and Seas of Jötunnheimr." The two stepped smoothly into the hall to polite applause and they took their places at the head of the high table, settling themselves into two elaborately constructed thrones of ice. "May I present his Royal Highness, Crown Prince Býleistr Laufeyson, firstborn of King Laufey and Queen Fárbauti." More applause as Býleistr went in to join his parents. Loki heard several feminine titters and laughs from around the room. "His Royal Highness, Prince Helblindi Laufeyson, third born of King Laufey and Queen Fárbauti." Helblindi bounced in, grinning from ear to ear. "And the guest of honour, the returned Lord of Winds, His Royal Highness, Prince Loki Laufeyson, second born of King Laufey and Queen Fárbauti."

Loki strode into the room, his steps quick and efficient through the throng as he received the loudest claps yet. He would not look at them, his eyes focused only on the high-backed chair that had been assigned to him. His heart was pounding in his ears and he thought it a wonder the whole room could not hear it; it was more deafening than the storms of applause assaulting his ears. The vein in his throat jumped visibly as he ascended to the high table, turned elegantly and sat down.

_Play the lie._

"Please be seated," the herald said, "and may your feast begin!"

Servants burst from side rooms, weighed down by trays and platters piled high with food and pitchers full of fermented berries and weak wines. The guests stirred with anticipation as the food was laid in front of them and their goblets were filled. Meats and vegetables were piled high onto Loki's plate, but his appetite was next to non-existent; he felt too hollow to be eating. When everyone had been served, every eye turned to the top table where Laufey got to his feet as a servant placed a crystalline globe in his waiting hand.

"To the safe return of my son, and may he bring pride to the name of his house and his people as is his duty as both my son and the prince of his realm." Laufey threw the globe high into the air, and it arched, nearly brushing the ceiling before it came to crash in the centre of the room. A small surge of icy air rippled throughout the hall as the globe shattered and the ice began to shift where the thing had landed, building and twisting as it formed a huge tree. Its branches stretched the every corner of the room, encompassing every guest under its canopy. "Celebrate as you see fit until Yggdrasil itself melts!" Laufey crowed.

A roar went up around the room as they dug into their food. Loki was still in awe of the beautiful magic, and he began to pick at his food, eyes always darting every few seconds to the rendition of the World Tree. As he looked more closely, he could see the formation of nine globes along various branches of the tree, and they glowed with soft colouring. He picked out Jötunnheimr instantly; it was the only realm that had no colour. His eyes slid to the very top of the tree, and his throat constricted as the golden realm of Asgard twisted itself into being.

He realised with a start Fárbauti was watching him carefully. "It's an old belief of the jötnar," she said in explanation, "that ice is one of the main structures of Yggdrasil, as it was one of the only things in the beginning of the worlds. Ymir told his children that they would be the proudest of all races of all time, and their pride would only die when Yggdrasil melts and the realms collapse with the Ash."

Loki said nothing, only flipped through the various things on his plate with slender fingers, his hunger still refusing to make itself known. How could he be expected to eat at a time like this? After Laufey had single-handedly shredded everything he had even known in the span of a month and a half? And he felt betrayed by Asgard all the more. He had been praying for the Allfather to come back to Jötunnheimr and take him back before the celebrations, and when the skies had refused to shine with the colours of the Bifröst from the announcement of the events to public swearing of his oaths, he had been _hoping_ so fervently he would still come back for Loki. But it had been a childish hope, and one he kicked himself for holding to. The Allfather could be crueller than even Laufey very easily.

"Loki, my dear," Fárbauti continued in a brave attempt to strike up conversation with him, "please, tell me what you are thinking."

Loki lifted his eyes to hers, and it was such an effort to do so. "In truth," he said in the Æsir tongue, "I want to kill every last one of you here and now and then kill myself." Her brows pinched with confusion, but she did not push him to repeat his words in a language she understood. "Time's ticking, Odin," Loki said under his breath in the same language, "and the sand's almost run dry."

He was an individual who was constantly aware of his surroundings, and it didn't escape his notice the many glances from the guests as they eat, most particularly the quick stares of the female jötnar. They whispered to each other behind their hands, eyes darting to him and their friends before giggles broke out between them. Loki wanted to melt into the floor. Laufey's words awoke in the back of his mind, then:

_"You are a fine jötunn. Deep house lines, the strong horns of the royals, sharp claws and teeth and you have beauty in your face and body."_

If they thought of him as beautiful, he thought of nothing of every single one of them in return. He wasn't romantically or sexually attracted to the women; all he saw was the blue skin and the red eyes and turned away in disgust. They were monsters, and he couldn't look past it to the faces and bodies underneath. He was absolutely repelled by them all. His promise to never produce offspring echoed through his mind, and he knew it was something he was easily going to keep.

And he wouldn't let anyone change his mind. Any slip of control on his part, anything from the mere act of sex to the fertilisation of a seed, and Laufey would have won over him.

He managed to eat a few bites of food, and his plate was almost full when it was taken away. Platters were laid about the tables for the guests to pick at as they got up to start socialising amongst themselves. Býleistr and Helblindi rose from their places simultaneously, Býleistr crossing to a group of gossiping women which he folded himself into with no effort on his part, and Helblindi ran to a knot of younger jötnar on one of the far sides of the room. Loki stood, too, but he turned away from the gathering and went to one of the many outside balconies that ran along the right side of the room. They had been concealed by drapes of fabric during the meal, but they were now being pushed back by the servants.

Loki strode to the edge of the balcony on leant upon the low wall separating himself and a hundred-metre drop to the streets of Útgarða below. The sounds of celebration were more distant out here, and Loki closed his eyes, breathing in the crisp air of the early morning hours that proceed dawn.

He didn't miss the sound of shuffling steps behind him. From the sound of them, he guessed there were about ten women in the group, but they kept their distance out of both respect and fear of the unknown. This was a prince who had been raised as one of Asgard, and they had no doubt heard of some of the things had had done since his 'arrival' in the castle. He himself was content to stay where he was for the time being; he had nowhere else to go in particular, and this sort of confrontation was going to have had to take place sometime. All he had to say was that he wanted the women to piss off. Being cruel to them was one sure fire way of driving them back to the familiar.

"My prince," a brave girl said after a few minutes of frantic whispering to her friends in flowing Jötunn, "we … we come to offer you our well wishes, and we hope, in time, our friendship."

He snorted. "Please," he started in the All-Tongue, "if you wish to gain entrance into my bed chambers and subsequently my pants or loincloth or what have you, then you are to be disappointed. I will take your well wishes, but nothing more." He turned to them with the haughtiest expression he could muster on his face. "Slack another's appetite this night, but do not seek me."

"My prince!" the girl squeaked haltingly in the All-Tongue, her face darkening as she blushed deeply. "I merely offered you only wishes and friendship."

"And I have told you also, I will take your wishes and nothing more. Now _be gone_." A hint of threat hung in the air and the women, all dressed in their finest furs and leathers which clung to their waists and showed their voluptuous figures in hugely flattering ways and their necks, wrists, ankles and waists weighed down with jewellery, backed away slowly. Loki glared at them until the last had turned her back to him before he went back to his previous position. The sooner he started his rejections and the sooner the news spread around, the sooner he would be left in peace.

_They're as shallow as those ladies at the courts of Asgard who only seek to further their social status_, he thought, and the realisation of the parallel made him laugh softly. _Once a prince in a game of politics and power, always a prince in a game of politics and power._

Over the next forty-five minutes, he was accosted by four more groups of women, all of whom he sent scampering away. But, he noticed irritably, always there seemed two or three who were bold enough to hover just inside, watching him carefully for any sudden moves on his part to reengage with the celebrations.

_They'll be waiting for a while_, he thought amusedly, waving away a servant who offered him a drink of fermented berries.

"Loki."

Loki groaned quietly as he recognised Býleistr's voice. He turned to rest his elbows and lower back on the wall as the older jötunn came towards him, a young jötunn woman on his arm. She was dressed in nothing more than a scrap of grey-white fur held together by a string of ice magic across her breasts and crotch. Wavy black hair tumbled down her back, but it was slightly dishevelled.

A sneer curled around Loki's mouth. "What is it? Care to partake in some of the sluts who're after my company? I seem to have a never ending supply of them."

"I have enough women to hold my interests for this night," Býleistr said with a dismissive note in his voice.

"Gotten your cock wet enough already?" Loki growled. "Pray tell me, you haven't had your way with _every one_ of those women you went off with earlier? I thought you wouldn't have been able to handle such a merry band."

"But it is something you've evidently failed to do. You're much more stupid than I thought, turning down all these beautiful ladies."

"Or simply because I have better tastes than you."

"I forgot you like those Asgardian women," Býleistr said scathingly. "Tell me, for I'm curious, are they good to fuck?"

"Why are you asking me? Can you not find out for yourself?" Loki asked coolly. "You could try, but I doubt they would want to lie with the brute you are."

"Are you not a brute, too, then? Grýla, love, you must hear of what my dearest little brother thinks of himself and women. He thinks himself so above everyone and everything else, thinks of himself as a monster and, because of it, he is scared of lying with women. But I haven't quite figured out why, yet. Tell me, Loki, are you scared of the very idea of lying with a jötunn willingly, or are you scared that you will prove sire was right with your offspring?"

Loki surged forward and, before he could fully comprehend what he was doing, dug his horns into Býleistr's forehead. The jötunn snarled and angled his head to do the same with Loki. Býleistr was taller than him, and it took all of Loki's strength to not buckle under him. The ice beneath his feet cracked he was pushing against him so much.

"You have no idea as to my reasons to not copulate with jötunn whores," he snarled.

"Oh, really?" Býleistr replied savagely. "'I will not pass this despicable blood to another'. 'If you want grandchildren, get them to give them to you'."

Loki's patience broke.

He swung at Býleistr, claws angled in such a way they left four deep gauges in his shoulder. Býleistr snarled and aimed a punch at Loki, but he ducked. He grabbed at Býleistr's back and forced him the bend at the waist. Loki drove his knee into his stomach before elbowing him in the back. He then pulled him back up by the hair, hooked his leg around the back of Býleistr's knee and pushed at his shoulder. He yanked his leg back and Býleistr fell heavily to the ground. Loki's breath was light as he pushed a knee into Býleistr's sternum and he pulled out one of his seaxes and pressed it lightly to the older jötunn's throat.

"Never," he hissed, "even try to look into my mind. It is a deep and dark place, twisted by hate and circumstance and I am cold and calculating. You cannot even begin to remotely comprehend my reasons for anything I do, so stop trying to. If you do—" he traced the seax along Býleistr's throat languidly "—let's just say you won't be doing much later."

Býleistr tried to shove him off, by Loki shifted his weight and brought a foot around on his right wrist, pinning the other under the knee on Býleistr's chest.

"Don't even dream of it," Loki said. "I am better than you or anyone else here at combat, so don't even _try_ to beat me."

A quiet roar sent Loki and Býleistr scrambling away from each other. Býleistr knelt and Loki quickly followed his example as Laufey came on them. Many of the guests hadn't realised what was going on, and were continuing to act in their ignorance. Laufey looked to the servants and they lowered a couple of the drapes to block the view of the royal family.

"All of you, go," Laufey said. Grýla and the women who were hovering around in a last attempt to catch the eye of Loki left at once.

"Sire," Býleistr said in Jötunn as soon as they were alone, "I apologise most profusely for my actions."

"I don't want to hear it," Laufey said. "I want to hear what Loki has to say for himself, especially since he swore an oath to not disrupt this celebration."

"I said I would not do anything that would affect _you_," Loki snapped, "and I didn't lie; I did something that affected Býleistr."

"You twisted my words."

"Precisely." He grinned at the king nastily. "That's the problem with silvertongues and tricksters: it's hard to close all the loopholes they can spot, and they can spot a lot."

"What warranted your attack which needed you to beat my heir and your brother senseless and then hold a knife to his neck?"

"Firstly, it's a seax as it's too long to be a knife or a dagger. Secondly, he provoked me, _sire_."

"And you think childish provocation entitles you to floor him?"

"There's a lot about Æsir culture you don't understand, isn't there?"

"You mean to say that I cannot discern that he was purposely trying to get a rise out of you so you would then look bad from your response?"

"I didn't realise you had an intelligent thought in that skull of yours."

"You dare to insult me?!" Laufey bellowed. Loki swore he heard the sounds of the feast quieten a little.

"I was born of Chaos, so expect it from me," Loki snarled. "It is my nature to talk back, trick and lie, so expect nothing less of me."

"You," Laufey said, jabbing a finger at Býleistr who shifted his weight is discomfort, "tell me what was said and done."

"I accused him of wanting nothing more than to lay with those monsters he calls Asgardian women," Býleistr said. "He has been quite cruel to the lovely women here tonight."

"It is my choice that I will not share a bed with any jötunn woman on this night or any in the future, _brother_," Loki said. "I will not, and you will never be able to make me."

"He just needs to right sort of race for his tastes to spread their legs and then he will bite," Býleistr mocked. "How many women here tonight know you despise them because they are not the colour of cream?"

"Or brown; do not be so close-minded," Loki said mockingly.

"I am sick of you two bickering like scullery maids," Laufey said finally. "Loki, you will excuse yourself at this instance as will you, Býleistr, and I do not expect to see you until tomorrow, am I clear?"

"Yes, sire," Býleistr said lowly. Loki just gave a grunt.

Whispers were spreading through the room as they three of them re-entered, but Loki and Býleistr quickly disappeared into the depths of the castle, and Loki had difficulty in hiding his smile; he had Býleistr exactly where he needed him.

* * *

**Sorry, I just love all the feels too much. I think Loki's emotions would be very roller-coastery, as I noticed when I was rewatching _Thor_ the other day that, when he and Frigga are sitting by Odin's bedside during his naptime, he was quite calm and collected about the whole thing, but lashes out a lot when confronted by Odin and Thor about his heritage. Lashing out goes into TDW as well. Here, he would be relaxing himself a bit and lowering his barriers, and then, when it all gets a bit much, snaps the barriers back up.**

**And I bet you're really proud of yourself, huh Loki, acting like a little shit AGAIN. I hate you so much...**

**Right.**

**Uru is a metal in the comics used by the Asgardians for may of their weapons. Mjollnir is made from Uru, as is Gungnir.**

**Muspelheimr is the home of the fire giants.**

**Hati is the son of Fenrir, who in turn is the son of Loki. Hati chases the moon across the sky every night whilst his brother, Skoll, chases the sun every day. When Ragnarok comes, Hati and Skoll will catch the moon and sun and eat them. Well, I heard Ragnarok's scheduled for the 22nd this month, so enjoy the sun and moon for the next three weeks until they're eaten by monster wolves.**

**Loki's plan will come to completion next chapter. I would have put it here, but the chapter was getting up to 9000 words. Sorry about that.**

**_—aylithe_**


	6. Chapter Six: Eisbock

**And we're back!**

**Just a reminder this story is now also on AO3 under the same username as here (aylithe) and, honestly, I really prefer AO3. I've been there for about a week and a half and already I think it is hugely superior to this site. Easy to edit chapters, easy to find things you want, etc etc.**

**And now, Loki plays some tricks.**

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**_PART ONE _****– **ONCE

**CHAPTER SIX**

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**BREAKFAST THE NEXT **EVENING WAS A SOMEWHAT SUBDUED AFFAIR. From opposite sides of the table in the private dining hall of the royal family, Loki and Býleistr were glaring daggers at each other. Part of Loki wished to start fighting with him again, and the other, more sensible part, was telling him to bide his time. Loki had dark shadows under his eyes as a result of lost sleep during the day.

Day was when Jötunnheimr finally fell quiet and Loki, unable to sleep due to the demanding and heartbreaking events from earlier, had placed a glamour of invisibility over himself so he could sit on the edge of the cliff where the Bifröst site had once been. Hours he had been there, talking to Heimdallr and anyone else who was watching him in hoarse and bitter tones. He had threatened them, cursed and spat the watchers until he was having difficulty not screaming. What had forced him to return to the castle was a group of jötnar who had left the celebrations very late who had come at him, curious as to what was talking in the Æsir tongue and Loki had slipped back to the castle to try and snatch at a few dry hours of sleep. He'd gotten two at the absolute most.

"My sons." Fárbauti was the first brave enough to break the silence, and both Loki and Býleistr turned to look at her. "Your sire has told me of what occurred last night."

"Going to lecture us?" Loki hissed. "Going to ask as to why I don't want have a good night in the furs with some woman beneath me?"

"My dear younger brother, you don't want to stick your cock between some woman's legs because you would think yourself filthy because of it," Býleistr said with a sniff. "Mother, we have discussed this at great length already, and we do not need to discuss it yet again."

"You will watch your mouth, boy," Laufey said to his heir in a harsh tone.

Býleistr said nothing more on the subject, eating his food quickly and not meeting Loki's eye again. Loki was only too happy to leave a few minutes later, not sparing any of them so much as a passing glance. He went back to him chambers silently.

After a wash and scrub in icy water, Loki was taken to be prepared yet again, but, thankfully, his regalia for this night was far less grand than what he had worn before. The chainmail was replaced by simple shoulder plates, the vambraces reduced to decorated leather bands and the spell to bring out his scars was not performed. He'd been given some sort of sweet tasting stick to chew on which, he was told, would help to whiten his teeth.

"My prince," a serving woman said as he stepped out of the antechamber, "I have been bidden to bring you these gifts from your abundance of admirers. They have been very stricken with you."

"Stricken with lust for my position; I doubt it is for me personally," Loki said dismissively.

The serving woman looked like she wanted to protest, but thought better of it after seeing Loki's storm cloud of an expression at the items laid out neatly on the second table which had been brought into the room a couple of nights before. He crossed to them, picking the things up and rolling them between his fingers carefully. The first thing he picked up was a small flint statue, one that had been beautifully carved to depict some Jötunnheimr creature he had never seen or heard of before. It was covered in fur with a long, whip like tail which was as long as the body flew out behind the figure. Huge paws tipped with sharp claws reached forward in mid-stride. The long snout was curled a soft snarl of evident concentration. A small horn grew skyward from the nose. Tied around the neck, like a collar, was a note on a slip of thin hide. He slid the note out and read the words that had been carefully printed in the All-Tongue:

_My Dearest Prince Loki Laufeyson,_

_Jötunnheimr sings of your return, and my being sings especially loudly with happiness. Please, accept this gift as a token of my affections for you._

_– Asvid, of the House of Bolthorn._

Loki snorted with derision as he placed down the statue and burnt the note to a cinder with a quick flame. The serving woman jumped with alarm, but said nothing as Loki continued to sort through the gifts and tokens. They were finely made, but they held no interest to him. Glass charms to tie in his hair, rings to pierce his ears with, bones carved with ancient spells, dragon scales that changed their colours depending on which angle they caught the light and precious shimmering powders in small glass bottles were just some of the things given to him. Every note he read spoke of undying affections and feelings towards him, and he found the declarations of love they spoke highly amusing.

"Well," he said, putting down a set of obsidian runestones which clinked on the tabletop, "their gifts and feelings are wasted. Destroy them."

"My lord?" the serving woman said, staring in mute shock at Loki as he crossed his arms tightly.

"Are you deaf? I said for you to destroy them."

"Is my lord sure he does not want to reconsider? Some of these things are very precious, after all."

"Do I have to ask you a third time?!" Loki demanded thunderously. "I said destroy everything, down to the last grain of powder."

"O … of course, my lord. I shall see to it myself."

Loki watched her collect the things back onto the tray they had been brought in on and didn't take his eyes off of her until the door had closed behind her. He was quietly for a few seconds and he pressed his knuckles into his forehead before he began to laugh softly. It continued to grow in volume until it was echoing around the chambers and he was doubled over with mirth, gasping and wheezing for air. He didn't know why he had started, perhaps because the situation had seemed so ridiculous to him he could hardly believe it, but he felt better afterwards.

When the guards came to escort him to the throne room a few minutes later, they looked chilled at the wolfish grin splitting his face.

* * *

#

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**"I **DIDN'T GET the chance to introduce myself to you last night, my prince," a broad shouldered jötunn said, sweeping Loki a low bow. "My name is Thjazi, and I have served your father and the crown for millennia."

Loki sighed and drummed his fingers on the table. His claws clacked loudly against the flint top. "A general," he said smoothly. "Yes, I have heard of you in passing company." Laufey had talked of Thjazi during the meals leading up to the celebrations, more particularly of his daughter Skaði who he hoped Loki might take some interest in as they were close in ages. She had been pointed out to him earlier, but she was just another jötunn to him, another monster to repel.

"I fought alongside your father during the Jötunnheimr-Asgard War in the last millennium. And, I must say, you have grown exceptionally since the last I saw you. You look so much like your mother."

"So I've heard," Loki said dryly. _Clack. Clack. Clack._ "Thank you for introductions." It was a sharp closing and the jötunn took his exit with a bow.

Loki leant forward on the table top, hand running through his hair and he blew out a long breath through his lips. Names, titles and the faces they belonged to that all looked the same to him were bouncing through his head to the extent it hurt. It was halfway through the midnight meal, and already he had been accosted and set upon by dozens of jötnar wanting to get on his 'good side' and therefore nestle their ways into good graces and politics. Still, Loki thought, it hadn't been as bad as it had been an hour ago when the inner throne room was near to bursting.

Also, to his immense annoyance, the number of women confronting him seemed to have positively doubled from the night before. Whether because they were stupidly determined by either a gain in status, his supposed good looks, or because they found his character strangely infatuating, Loki had found it difficult to avoid them without causing a scene. The night before was still a burning image in his mind, and Laufey had extracted iron clad oaths and promises from him. He was not to harm, interfere or otherwise disrupt the coming nights, and he was still prodding around, trying to look for loopholes. He'd found a couple he was planning to exploit later that night.

Helblindi pulled himself into the seat next to Loki, rousing him from his thoughts.

"Can you give me that?" Helblindi said as he pointed to a platter of meat. Loki slid it down the table as he started to put a few pieces of the meat onto his plate in front of him. "Why aren't you down there?" his younger brother asked suddenly through a mouthful.

"For fear I'd be crushed by a stampede of women," Loki said dryly, helping himself to a cut of meat, too. He was very hungry by this time, having not had much to eat over the past few nights.

"I wish I'll be half as lucky as you when I'm old enough," Helblindi said with a sigh of wistful longing. "Was it like this for you in Asgard?"

Loki shook his head, expression darkening at the mention of his home. "It was always Thor who stole the hearts; I was always pushed to the side."

Helblindi looked stunned. "They're mad. You will make such a strong mate."

"If you say so." In all honestly, Loki couldn't see why it wasn't Býleistr having to fight off hordes of admirers. He had all the qualities he would have thought would have been the most desirable. As Laufey had pointed out, Loki was underweight, had a naturally slight build and was … Loki; the least favourite and Thor's shadow.

"Prince Loki."

Loki had to supress the groan that rose in his throat as the woman spoke. He looked up, ready to snap at her the leave him alone like he had so many others, but it died in his throat. Two jötnar stood before him, a man and a woman. Judging by their lines, they were brother and sister.

"Yes?" he said with a hint of irritation.

"I am sorry for this interruption in your conversation, but my brother to be leaving soon and we won't have another chance to give you our well wishes for a long while yet together. We welcome you back to Jötunnheimr."

She was dressed in light shoulder armour unlike so many other women there. Her furs were of the highest quality, and her black hair had been pinned in a great amount of skill atop her head. He had leather strips wound about his arms and a luxuriant loincloth of black fur. He was bald, something Helblindi had said was the sign of a warrior as the lack of hair meant it couldn't be tugged on in a fight.

"Thank you." Loki's response was stiff; forced.

"I would stay longer, but our father has taken ill very suddenly, and I apologise for the inconvenience," the brother said. He bowed deeply. "May I introduce my sister, Angrboða Vörnirsdóttir, and myself, Hræsvelgr Vörnirson."

"House Vörnir?!" Helblinid said, his mouth wide. "But … but that would mean you hail from the other side of the realm!"

"Yes, my prince," Angrboða said, flashing a smile. "My brother and I were here in Útgarða for other business when Prince Loki returned to us, and we decided to stay for the celebrations. As such, we are sorry that we are the only two able to represent our house."

"Thank you for your introductions," Loki cut across, folding his arms on the table, "but you have given them, and I see you have no other reason to stay."

"Of course not. Sister, I must leave now."

"Give my blessings to father," his sister said as she and her brother turned and walked back down the steps.

Helblindi was still gobsmacked. "They're from such a long way away…."

"How long would it take to reach the other side of the realm?" Loki asked casually.

"Three months by sled at least," Helblindi said. "And that's only if the seas have all frozen over and the weather is good for the entire trip. If you have quick mounts which you change every twelve hours or so, you can make it in two and a half."

Suddenly, Laufey's mocking suggestion about going there seemed very appealing. Three months travel away from this place….

"Did you see her, though?" Helblindi said, eyes round. "Angrboða. She was so beautiful."

Loki sighed heavily. "I can't see it." He looked to her profile, and really tried to _look_ at her. She had a heart-shaped face, high cheekbones, full lips and a long neck. She was curvy, even if she wasn't greatly endowed, but it fit with her proportions. Her legs were long and she trod lightly; cat-like, Loki thought.

"Oh no," Helblindi groaned in sudden realisation, hands going to his face in despair. "That means Býleistr's gonna be after her, and his chambers are next to mine."

All at once, Loki felt very sorry for Helblindi and a smile curled around his mouth. "Take mine if it's bothering you."

"What? Really?" Helblindi said, mouth stretching into a grin.

"But only if you sleep on the rug; I'll still lay claim to the bed."

Helblindi hit him playfully on the shoulder, and Loki wondered if he was forgiven for his actions and words two weeks before.

Loki's eyes snapped to the crowd and he cursed colourfully in the Æsir tongue when he saw a group of girls advancing on him. It was a gang he'd had to almost shout away on multiple occasions, and he jumped from his seat quickly. "Tell Laufey I'll see him at the dawn feast," he muttered, walking away quickly and quietly where none would dare follow him. He didn't see Angrboða's eyes tracking his progress through to the antechamber which he disappeared into, a thoughtful expression on her face.

* * *

#

* * *

**THE **FEASTING HALL was much more raucous than the dawn before and Loki, surprising himself, found he liked it better. Perhaps because it fit more with his thoughts of the jötnar as savages instead of the dignified peoples he had seen yesternight. The Yggdrasil tree has started to melt, and the drops of water that fell from its branches vanished in the air before they fell on the guests. From the amount it had shrunk in the last turn of the realm, Loki guessed it would be another week and a half before the celebrations were brought to a close, and he grimaced in silent despair. Some days he would find excuses to miss, he told himself as he leant against a pillar in a dark corner of the room.

The jötnar had eaten quickly and where in the middle of the room, the males boisterous and chasing after the females with careless abandon. Loki was again pressed by several to talk to them, but he sent them on their ways quickly with glares and cruel words. It was only a matter of time, he told himself, before they would learn he didn't want their attentions.

Near the tree, two jötnar picked a fight with one another, young males by the looks of them, and Loki watched with some interest as they began to grapple with each other. In any well respected Æsir court, such behaviour would not have been tolerated, but the jötnar surrounding the two fighting were calling them on, roaring names and howling in Jötunn as the two fought.

"They need to test their strengths," Fárbauti said as she came up next to him. "The jötnar follow strength, and this, in a time of gathering, is the perfect atmosphere for such happenings."

"They're tearing each other to pieces," Loki said, balking.

"I do not know of the customs in Asgard," Fárbauti said, her hand straying to his shoulder as she came up behind him, "but this is normal. It will be normal to you."

"I don't understand why it has to be normal," Loki said, jerking away from her.

"Not all battles can be won with wits."

"Many can," Loki replied tersely.

"I will warn you of this," Fárbauti said quietly, "these women will to fight each other in hólmganga for your attentions, and do not be surprised if you yourself are challenged."

"Me?" Loki said, startled.

"They will want to see how fit you are to stand beside Laufey, regardless of whether he is your sire."

Loki bit his lip, glowering. Thor had always been the one itching for a fight. But, he conceded as he looked on the battle, these jötnar wouldn't be able to last long against his skillset if the way they fought was this rough and tumble displayed before him. The thought that he would be fought over like this by others made his blood run cold.

"Brother!"

Loki and Fárbauti looked up in unison as Helblindi and three of his friends stumbled to their sides, panting from their running. The three friends were looking at Loki in a mixture of awe and curiosity, and Loki found his shoulders stiffening and his head was being held higher.

"This is my brother," Helblindi said, giddy with excitement. "He's a bit jumpy and upset still about what's happened—"

Loki growled a warning, but it was soft.

"—but Mama says he'll be fine," he gushed on, looking to her for conformation.

"My words were that I hope he will be alright," Fárbauti corrected him gently. Loki looked away, biting his tongue.

"Prince Helblindi said you were really talented at magic," the only girl in the company said. She ducked behind one of her friends as Loki looked to her, eyebrow raised. "I—I think that's really exciting," she said, the words tumbling from her mouth.

Magic was considered in Asgard a womanly art, and it had earned him many the spittings of "_Ergi_" directed towards him during his centuries there. But, now that Loki came to think about it, he didn't know what the jötnar thought of such things.

"Show them!" Helblindi pleaded.

Loki looked to the crowd, noting the attentions of the women who were after him had been drawn away by the fight and a sneer curled around his mouth. He flicked his fingers, murmuring a cantrip under his breath at the same time and the youngsters stared with open mouths as a wraith came into existence. It was the very likeness of Loki and he directed the wraith down the stairs and to the edge of the crowd. Eyes snapped to it at once and Loki narrowed his own, choosing a victim.

"Helblindi," Loki said out of the corner of his mouth, "any woman in particular you have no liking of?"

"Sinmara," he said at once. "She threw Gjalp to the floor earlier."

The girl, Gjalp, nodded enthusiastically.

"That's her," Helblindi said, pointing to a jötunn woman who stood looking at the wraith with a hungry eye. Her black hair was threaded with gold and it glistened with oils. Bright jade shone at her throat and the furs she wore hugged her body tightly.

Loki's smile widened as he directed the wraith to her, making it whisper words into her ear which made her blush furiously. Helblindi and his friends were staring intently as the wraith offered an arm to the jötunn woman, eyebrow quirked and a smile threatening to tug at the edge of the mouth; that was Loki, always charismatically charming. Several women were bristling and two of them looked ready to positively murder Sinmara as she extended her arm to take the wraith's. As soon as she touched it, it vanished in a slither of magic and her expression of delight twisted into fury at once. She shrieked with rage as the jötnar around her roared with laughter as her eyes snapped to the top of the hall where the real Loki stood. The children were howling with mirth and Gjalp was positively choking with glee. Even Fárbauti couldn't help but smile a little.

Loki bore his teeth in a mocking smile; he knew she couldn't do anything about it, and she evidently knew it as well for she flounced away with as much dignity as she could, nose in the air and refusing to meet anyone's eye. The results for Loki for such a thing were twofold: her humiliation – therefore bringing satisfaction to Helblindi – and it deterred the women after his attentions somewhat. How could they know truths now as he had demonstrated with great effect, his ability at trickery? And, hopefully, if magic was viewed here the same way it was in Asgard, it would steer them away.

"Do something else!" one of the other children begged.

Loki held his palm out and summoned a string of glowing dragons which flapped about the children's heads, snapping and puffing smoke at them. They clapped at them, trying to catch the things, and such was their attention diverted it was easy for Loki to slip away. Fárbauti's fingers trailed across his wrist and he pulled away from her. Several eyes followed him to the outside balcony and to the corner that had become his place of refuge. From the corner of his eye, he saw several female jötnar make a start for him and he turned away stubbornly.

He summoned himself another wraith and cast another illusion over himself within the same breath, and he slipped away, invisible to the opposite end of the balcony. He stood in the shadows, watching as the wraith dealt with the women, obeying the smallest twitches of his mind and he dropped his illusion of invisibility, keeping to the edges of the wall.

"Heimdallr," he murmured. It had become habit to talk to the Gatekeeper, to forge some connection with Asgard once again and he turned his eyes skywards. "Please. I'm running out of options. Are you still watching me, even? Or have I been written off by Asgard completely?"

"You look like you can use a friend."

He jumped and whipped around to find Angrboða close by him and he shifted away from her. "Are my rejections really taken with such a light heart?" he said angrily.

"Don't get your feathers puffed up about me," she said dismissively, looking through disapproving eyes at the other women who were still fawning over the wraith. "I don't see the personal attraction to men so many women cannot ignore."

"Is that so?" he said, a hint of suspicion still lacing his voice. "Why talk to me, then?"

"Because as I said, it looks like you need a friend," Angrboða told him. "Many see you here as something to sink their claws into, what with your obvious blindness to the happenings around you."

"I may not have grown up jötunn," Loki snapped, "but I am no stranger to the courts."

"You are a stranger to our courts and customs," she pointed out.

"What is there different about this? Isn't the game to get to the highest seat of power available, using any number of ladder rungs available to you?"

"Yes," Angrboða conceded, "but I do not think the Æsir have the same political ideas as we do." At his look of curiosity, Angrboða continued, "The jötnar are more tribal than anything else. Laufey is essentially the head of these tribal leaders, as comes with the position of being the sovereign ruler. The jötnar follow strength, and the grand prize is to get the strongest mate: you. They will chase after you, no matter how cruel because this is a once in a lifetime opportunity from their generation to gain access to the royal family. Býleistr has more or less made his choice of mate, and Helblindi is still far too young."

"If you call his whoring a choice of mate," Loki snorted. "I've met his choice … Grýla; shallow thoughts in a shallow mind."

"You would like a lady of intellect? Grýla is a strong fighter, and it took her many hólmganga to win Býleistr's attentions."

"I have no want of a jötunn woman."

"So you've shown, but the heart of the reality is this: you must, for political reasons if nothing else. And no matter your resolve now, your carnal desires will need to be acknowledged."

Loki looked away bitterly. He could try and push the urges back, but he knew, knew deep down in his heart, she was right. It was written into his very bones, and he hated how his wishes would be overridden by thousands and thousands of years of instinct.

"I can try," was what he said stiffly.

Angrboða shrugged. "If you want my opinion on the matter, I would accept this. This is your world now, and you can't run from it."

Loki stared at her, fury sparking in his eyes. "Accept this?" he spat. "You're expecting me to just … just _forget_ everything I know?!"

"You must," she said seriously.

"Reverse this for a second," Loki growled. "Imagine if you found out you were the child of the thing you were taught to hate from the moment you could understand something of the world. Imagine if your father was Odin, and you had to not only find a way to accept yourself as you really were, but you were being pressured by everyone to do what you cannot?!"

"I would try," Angrboða snapped. "You are not; you are so blinded by those Æsir you cannot do more than cower in the face of reality. Grow up, for you are immature, no matter what you like to think, _Laufeyson_."

"You have no right to speak like that to me," Loki hissed. "You are foolish."

"Someone has to," Angrboða said, turning to stalk away, "and it may as well be me."

"I am a prince."

"You are Asgard's prince, and I do not take orders or threats from him. I take orders and threats from Jötunnheimr's royals."

Loki was too stunned and angry to compose a reply as the jötunn woman walked away. His lips curled into a snarl, one that was soon banished when he saw Býleistr enter the hall through the main doors. Instantly, he was joined by Grýla and she hung onto his arm, an easy smile on her lips. Býleistr nipped at her ear and she jumped back with a sparkle of laughter he attributed to clinking icicles.

_This is perfect_, Loki thought. He checked the negative space with the barest flick of attention. Yes, still there.

It was with a chill smile that Loki received the dawn meal that night, and he ate a good fist of food, mostly comprising of grainy rolls and vegetables with a sliver of meat.

When Býleistr had finished, Loki stood and went to him before he could vacate his seat. The two stared stonily at each other before Loki crossed his arms. "Býleistr, I would talk with you. Privately."

Distrust was rife in his eyes, but he had little to no choice by to follow Loki. The two went outside to where they had fought the previous night.

"There is one reason I'm doing this, and one which I will not say to you, but you know damn well what it is," he started, looking two feet over Býleistr's shoulder. Angrboða's advice was in his mind. _I'm stuck here, and you know it. I have to build some bridges, no matter how rickety_. "I … I _offer_ an apology for my behaviour last night." The words stuck to his throat, unwilling to be given shape and were uncomfortable.

"And what makes you think I will accept it?" Býleistr snorted.

"I'm not expecting you to," Loki said loftily, "but know this: I do not offer my apologies lightly, and I would rather not push myself further into Laufey's bad graces. I am not doing this for you; I'm doing this for me. Sorry is not a word that I part easily with, and so I suggest you keep close all the times I do."

"And what if I do not want to?" Býleistr said, his lip curling.

"Consider it a lost opportunity," Loki said, shrugging, "because, when one gives apologies in Asgard, the aftermath is spectacular and merry, something to reforge the bonds of friendship and brotherhood." Loki pulled from the negative space a skin full of liquid and two drinking horns he'd taken slyly from the kitchens in the early evening. "Just look at all the effort I've gone to to make it up to you."

"You're that confident I will accept?"

"Of course I am. No one can say no to some alcohol, after all."

Loki twisted his fingers, the cantrip the barest murmur upon his lips as he charmed Býleistr. It was a subtle thing; something that had taken a great deal of practice to master, but the fruits of his endeavours had been sweet.

Býleistr's eyes lit up at the word; a mixture of both his personal interest and the charm. Alcohol was scarce on Jötunnheimr, grains being a hard thing to grow and anything they produced was so weak it would take several kegs to get drunk on.

Býleistr held his hand out and Loki gave him one of the horns. "Excellent. This here is a drink most particular to the Æsir, beer if you'd like to know, and this is the stuff that flows like water at even the slightest hint of celebration."

"And how did you get your hands on it?" Býleistr said, suspicion creeping back into his voice.

"I made it," Loki said with a shrug. "Bit of magic to speed the fermenting process up, but I made it."

Loki opened the skin and sat against the low wall of the balcony, filling his horn and passing it to Býleistr. The jötunn sniffed it with some trepidation.

Loki's eyebrow rose. "You think I'd poison you?"

"Yes."

"Most certainly I would, but not tonight. I'd like to live to see the sun rise another day, and Helblindi is still too small for the throne."

Býleistr filled his own horn and Loki raised his. He downed it in one, the sweet taste of the stick he'd ground into the beer that evening left a lingering trace on his lips. He looked expectantly at Býleistr as he copied Loki and swallowed the stuff with some difficulty.

"That's disgusting," he said gruffly.

Loki wanted to say he had worked with what he had, but thought it best to shut up. "It's so bad it's good," he offered in explanation.

"I don't get that."

"Me neither, but still we come back for more. Another?"

Býleistr held his horn out in answer. Loki divided what was left between them. Again, Loki drank in one, but Býleistr had to finish his in a few mouthfuls.

He dropped in horn with a clatter and shook his head. "And that's the fun part of your apology?"

"Usually it'd go on for a much longer time," Loki told him, "but I don't have an endless supply of beer."

"Never give that stuff to me again; tasted like káshta shit." Býleistr strode back into the feasting hall and Loki crossed his arms, a smile curling around his lips.

It was maybe an hour and a half later that Loki's patience began to pay off. He'd wandered back in, eyes fixed on Býleistr and ignoring the women for the first time. When he didn't snarl at them as they drew closer, one came forward to bow deeply in front of him. Loki jumped in surprise.

"Greetings, Prince Loki."

She was clothed in, what seemed to him, gossamer sheets that fluttered behind her as she walked. She wore a thin silver chain around her neck, and her eyes were darkly lined with kohl, or something close to it. A belt tied her clothing around her waist to stop it flying around too much. Loki could see her nipples against the fabric.

Loki grunted, sidestepping around her and eyes back on Býleistr as he shook his head as if to clear it.

"My lord," the woman continued, taking the opportunity of his distraction to draw into step beside him and, Loki had to admire her nerve, linked her arm around his. Her grip was like iron and he tried to get away, but she held him. "Please, let me introduce myself. I am Glut, first born daughter to the House of Fornjótr. Perhaps my father's name has been mentioned?"

"Never heard of him or you," Loki said. Býleistr burped loudly, loud enough for Loki to hear him quite clearly from the opposite side of the room.

"A shame, as we preside here with Útgarða itself. You must have met my father yesternight, for he presented you with a Duneyrr antler."

"I received many things, and my head is positively swimming with the effort to remember so many names and faces," Loki said, easing his arm from Glut's tight grip.

"Ah, of course." Glut smiled sweetly, her hands straying once again to Loki's arm but he shimmied away. "I saw you talking to Angrboða early this night. I would advise you not to spend your time with her or even to set your heart upon just her looks."

"Is this the stirrings of jealousy, I hear?" Loki said, his voice mocking.

"I aim to help you avoid disappointment," Glut said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "As beautiful as she may be, she chooses to spend her time in the company of other women such as herself, if you understand my meaning."

"You mean to say I am dull to not understand that she prefers to warm the beds of other women?" Loki said, annoyed.

"Of course not," Glut said, trying to hastily amend herself, "but—"

"But nothing," Loki said lowly. "She has told me what she likes already and I am not interested in her, nor am I interested in you, for that matter." His lip curled to expose his teeth. "Now I will ask you politely to leave."

Glut nodded and turned away, her back stiff and straight.

"Oh, do not be so mean." Loki cursed rapidly in the Æsir tongue as Býleistr clapped him hard on the back. "Glut may be a bitch, but she's a right party in bed."

"Oh is she?" Loki said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, little brother," Býleistr said, his voice crooning. "I'm sorry I spoiled the surprise for you." His speech was slightly slurred, now, and Loki grinned.

"What about Grýla? Surely she wouldn't like to hear you talk about such things."

"You don't know what you're passing up. Glut is a little _minx_."

Loki cleared his throat loudly as Býleistr wrapped in arm around his shoulders. "Býleistr—"

"Brother. I'm your brother, and you shall call me such," Býleistr told him sternly, his voice gaining in volume. "I always wanted a little brother."

"Is Helblindi a big brother, now?" Loki asked, not quite enjoying this new, overly affectionate Býleistr. He'd hoped for something different, but apparently it was not to be so. Býleistr, Loki decided then and there, was not the fun drunkard Thor was.

"No. _You're_ the little brother that was promised to me by mother and sire," Býleistr said with a hiccup. "I remember when you were two days old. You were so small, undersized, even, but now look at you, with your scars and your horns…."

"Yes," Loki agreed curtly.

"And then you were stolen by those bastard Asgardians, oh." Býleistr shuddered. "Never got over it; never heard the end of it."

"What do you mean?" Loki asked, his voice still light as he led Býleistr through the crowd to the tree trunk.

Without so much as the slightest hint of a warning, Býleistr grabbed Loki and held him in a tight hug. "Don't go again, brother. You're to stay right here were I can see you, you hear me?"

"Alright, alright, I hear you; let me go."

Many of the jötnar were staring open-mouthed as Býleistr clung onto Loki who was struggling to be let go, elbowing him in the chest and writhing back and forth. He briefly considered shifting to his Ás skin, as the size difference meant he would have been able to escape in a heartbeat, but banished the thought as soon as it came; he doubted he'd get far when he was surrounded on all sides by jötnar.

"Looooo-kiiiiii," Býleistr wailed. "Stop it. Come here!"

"Let me go!" Loki gasped. This was a mistake, this was some stupid mistake, one trick he should never have played—

"Why don't you like me?" Býleistr pouted.

"Why don't you like _me_?" Loki said.

"I don't like you because your stole my little brother from me," Býleistr said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the worlds. "You're Asgardian."

"Do I look like a fucking Ás?" Loki snapped. "I'm blue, I'm horned, and I'm nine foot tall!"

"You're Ás in _here_." Býleistr jabbed a finger into Loki's forehead. "I don't like it, therefore I don't like you."

"Oh, great," Loki groaned. "You're a sentimental fool under the influence of drink. Give me an angry you any day."

"I'm angry because you're angry," Býleistr told him.

"Oh, _I'm_ angry?" Loki hissed. "First time you saw me, you weren't overly pleased about it."

"You, my little brother," Býleistr said with a grin, "are an arse."

The crowd laughed and Loki grinned himself, if only to help shrug off the embarrassment.

"Býleistr."

The two of them and the gathering crowd turned to see Laufey striding towards them. The crowd parted for him as he stood above his sons, Loki staring at him defiantly and Býleistr still musing to Loki in his ear.

When Laufey's shadow fell over him, Býleistr looked up. "Sire!"

"Grýla, perhaps you could accompany my son back to his chambers," Laufey said, doing his best to hide his anger. "Loki, come with me."

"No, no, brother's staying right here," Býleistr said, holding Loki tight enough to make him yelp. "He's been away too long. Needs to stay with me."

"He's coming with me," Laufey said.

"Noooooo," Býleistr whined, but Grýla was at his elbow, gently extracting Loki from his grip and hauling the elder jötunn to his feet. She managed to shoot Loki the filthiest look before taking Býleistr away.

It was evident Laufey was struggling not to lose his temper as he walked away, Loki following, his pace and shoulders relaxed and smiling. He felt immensely satisfied now that Býleistr had been taken out and he could see the jötnar whispering amongst themselves and looking to where Býleistr and Grýla had vanished further into the castle. They were trying hard not to laugh, and Loki felt as if he had gotten his sweet revenge, even if he had been coddled in the process.

"In."

Laufey had led Loki down a corridor to a room further within the castle. He looked around. It was sparsely furnished, more like a storage room than anything else with a lone beam of moonlight streaming in room a high window.

Laufey slammed the door shut and advanced on Loki who stood his ground, glaring at the king. "What did you do to him?" Laufey said with strained patience.

"I simply introduced him to an Æsir custom," Loki said calmly. "You never said I couldn't do that. I'm not harming him, I'm not disrupting the night in any way I see – because it's already a doghouse in there – and I am not defying you. Sometimes I wonder if the whole point of feasts is to get drunk and pass out after taking a couple of girls to bed."

Laufey looked horrified.

"What? It's funny. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying it."

"What did you give him?"

"Beer; eisbock if you want to be specific," Loki said with a shrug. "Felt sympathetic for him, so you should be glad I didn't make something stronger."

"Spell the effects away," Laufey said viciously.

"How about 'no'?" He felt victorious and he felt defiant; perhaps it was the alcohol in his own system which made him feel braver, or perhaps it was because he was so sick of everything to do with Jötunnheimr he absolutely longed for something Chaotic, but whatever it was, he wouldn't let Laufey win this fight. "It's all a part of the experience, isn't it? The pounding hangover the next morning, the day in bed feeling like you're going to throw up buckets and bu—"

But Laufey's patience wore out and he slammed Loki back against the wall. Loki cried out in pain as his back cracked into the stone and he cowered as Laufey stood over him, teeth bared and so very close to Loki's throat. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought the king would have started kissing him considering how close he was.

"You will reverse the effects at this instant, or you will rue the consequences."

"Ooo," Loki said mockingly, "I'm scared shitless, s_ire_. What are you going to do if I refuse: starve me for another three weeks?"

"I'll break your horns."

"Don't get so worked up over a little drunkenness," Loki sneered. "He'll be fine this time tomorrow. A little upset and angry, maybe, but he'll be perfectly fine. And I'm not scared of you. If there's anything I should be worried about, it's going to be him when he recovers."

Laufey grabbed one of Loki's horns and he winced, waiting for the pain to come.

"I will not be ridiculed in my own home!" Laufey bellowed. "I will not be made the fool of because of you!"

"You think this is because of you?!" Loki said in return, fury bubbling through him. "This is who I am; what I do! I make fools out of people, especially out of people I hate more than anything. This is nothing compared to what I want to see you suffer."

Loki bit his lip as Laufey pulled on his horn in an effort to fight the pain, to hide it, but a whimper escaped his throat nevertheless.

"You be careful of your words, _boy_," Laufey spat. "You have sworn yourself to me, and you hint at treason."

"I don't care," Loki said, head held high. "You won't kill me."

"But I can and will make your life a misery."

"Why threaten what you have already achieved?" Loki's eyes were burning with hate as he wrestled himself from Laufey's grip. "You've ruined me; you've killed me."

"You will heal Býleistr," Laufey said after a short stretch of silence.

"I won't," Loki said contemptuously.

"I am not asking you: I am commanding you to as your king and your sire."

Loki twitched. He fought down the snarl begging to be heard and said tonelessly, "I will send him to sleep; sleep is the best healer for this."

Laufey was a shadow over Loki's shoulder as he was herded to the royal quarters. Býleistr's chambers were bigger than Loki's, neat and tidy with lavish furs and wall decorations. A huge mosaic made of tiles of dark ice was set into the floor; Loki couldn't help but think of it as beautiful. On the bed were Býleistr and Grýla.

"Hello, sire; brother," Býleistr said with a slur.

"My king," Grýla said, bowing her head. She eyed Loki as he stepped forward and placed two fingers on Býleistr's head and spoke a quick word. Býleistr slumped into sleep at once.

"One more incident like this," Laufey said when the two of them exited, "and you will find yourself in chains; am I understood?"

Loki's response was a curt nod. His lip twitched.

"You are not to show yourself for the rest of this night, nor are you to see anyone else."

"Sending me to my room like you would a child, now?" Loki said bitterly.

"I will treat you like a child until you stop acting like one," Laufey said simply.

* * *

**Loki is in for a whole world of pain later. Honestly, Laufey's just probably tried of all the shit Loki's doing to effectively deal with him for the moment. Byleistr is going to _flip._**

**Eisbock is "... a much stronger version** [of bock (which is a kind of German lager)]** made by partially freezing the beer and removing the water ice that forms." I thought that it was damn perfect for this situation, as it's very strong and because of the conditions in which its produced.**

_**—aylithe**_


	7. Chapter Seven: Strength and Honour

**Sorry about the update time; school crap and I was too busy reading _The Gospel of Loki_ which I finished in pretty much a day *melts* Go read it; NOW. I think it's actually really quiet strange how the order of many of the events in it actually match the order I picked for my Norse mythology retelling. Damn, I'm good. I was also getting a little ahead in the story as I hope to be able to build up a buffer of chapters to be posted; it means I'll have time to read over them and catch any embarrassing mistakes before they're put on the Internet. Also got my hands on the new _Loki: Agent of Asgard_ comic; I very much enjoyed the first issue *super excited for next one* *still laughing at the green spandex***

**Guest Reviewer 13th Feb: Yeah, the link didn't work. This site's a bitch about links. Urgh. I lost faith in her as soon as I saw her costume. I mean ... really? And then I found out about her character and I want to slap her now. Loki uses her as a tool, and she does _nothing_ about fighting him._  
_**

**Inaccuracies hurt my soul. Going to Marvel again, when they made Loki the 'God of Evil' (even him with self-anointing the title at several points), I just wanted to punch someone. The Norse didn't believe in Good and Evil like we know it. I would not care if they made him God of Chaos, welcome it, even, but God of Evil? *punches someone* If you're going to make a cast of characters based of a society's pantheon, do your research about said society, please. That is all I ask.**

**Never heard of that anime, but I'm gonna stay clear from it if you haven't got good things to say about it. Oh really? I've heard of a theory that their wedding day was on April 1st, and the celebration held in their honour has evolved over the years into the prank day it is today. Hmmm.**

**But off we go with the next chapter!**

* * *

_**PART ONE — ONCE**_

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

* * *

**SIGYN CAME FROM** A LESSER NOBLE HOUSE, one recently made during the Jötunnheimr-Asgard War when her father had led an attack on an Æsir battalion and won against the odds. As he had been only an elevated commoner before, her house lines were not extravagant like those surrounding her; they spoke of recent rank gain in their small number and simplicity.

The day the celebrations had been announced, young women had started pouring in from all over the immediate area of the realm to participate in trials of strength and combat so they could sit in the feasting hall every night of the celebrations and, many hoped, be able to woo the newly returned prince. Sigyn had made it onto the shortlisted sixty somewhere in the middle and she had glowed with pride when she was sent an invitation a week beforehand.

"This will be a one-time opportunity for you, and therefore us, to achieve as high a status as royals," her mother had said in her ear as she teased Sigyn's long black hair into knots, strips and loops which came atop her head elegantly when the first day came.

"We are but a lesser house, mother," Sigyn had said quietly.

"But we are strong; you are strong, you have proved it," her mother had soothed. "I will love you no less if you do not succeed, child; you have already gone so far."

Sigyn hadn't been overly happy with the reassurance, knowing she would be judged by her family when she returned unsuccessful. She wouldn't have proved herself strong enough for the prince's attentions. After all, who thought much of the lesser noble houses of Jötunnheimr?

Sigyn was young; at one thousand and twenty years of age, she was only thirty years the prince's junior; a perfect match, her mother declared with delight as Sigyn and her father, Bláin, went to the first feast of the celebrations. Sigyn had quickly found a group of friends; seven girls all within her age bracket who spent that dinner whispering amongst themselves about the second prince. Their 'oohs' and 'ahhs' of delight had reached ear splitting levels when he had walked in behind all his family members. Sigyn hadn't been able to see him clearly when he had sworn his oaths to the king, but now he strode down the hall twenty feet from her, she was smitten by him. She had of course heard he was handsome, his horns strong and his shoulders held back with pride, but it was his movement which caught her attention. His step could only be described as graceful, but there was a sense of calculation behind it, as if he had striven to perfect it in such a way it would look predator-like. His eyes were fixed on the head table, but he gave subtle twitches with what could have only been agitation whenever someone drew close, as if he expected them to strike him from behind. To say Sigyn was fascinated with him was an understatement.

He had sat next to his mother and younger brother and had picked at his food. Sigyn, like most of the girls she had sat herself with, could not help but look at him every few minutes. Every time Sigyn did so, she could not help but see a certain misery in his expression which made her heart ache. Suddenly, she had had a vision of herself pressed against his chest, fingers trailing over his hard cheekbones and angular jaw which made the misery go away and she shuddered with delight.

After the meal, she had approached him with a knot of women and, like he had done to two groups before them, dismissed them with anger. Sigyn had retreated, disappointment thrumming through her with every heartbeat as she rejoined the celebrations inside and attempted to make small talk. She had bid a servant as she left many hours later to take Loki a gift of Gullinbursti bristles, a gift worth a small fortune which she hoped would please Loki.

"I heard he destroyed his chambers two weeks ago after he flew into a rage after talking with the queen," one girl whispered the next night.

"What did they talk about?"

"I don't know, but if he has enough power to destroy his chambers in anger, just imagine what he can achieve in the throes of passion."

Sigyn's face darkened with a furious blush and she bit her lip to supress her snorts and giggles. Again, that image had come to her and she held it close, sighing.

Sigyn had watched with amusement when the prince had tricked Sinmara, a woman who Sigyn had never been close with and who had ridiculed her on many occasions, and had positively burst from laughter when Loki had enchanted his brother. She had laughed at not only Býleistr, but at him as he talked to his older brother in the All-Tongue.

"The king is furious with Prince Loki," one of her friends, Imðr said in hushed tones an hour or so after Laufey had taken the two of them out. "Angeyja heard them yelling at each other when he was escorted out."

"Do you think he's coming back tonight?" Eistla asked.

"Doubtful," Imðr told her. "Did you see what happened last night? The princes fought on the outside balcony and I heard blood was shed. I'm just afraid he won't be coming back for a few nights at least."

"Oohhh, we're running out of time!" Eistla wailed quietly. "Glut's moved on him, and she even managed to hold his arm for a good two minutes before he shook her off."

"But what about Angrboða?" Sigyn said quietly. "They were talking, too."

"Angrboða's nothing to worry about since she has no want of child; the shameful woman slut," Angeyja snorted. "Honestly, Sigyn, you should be more worried about Glut than _her_."

Sigyn sighed. "I know, but if he doesn't know that and falls for her beauty, her strength, then we are not going to gain his attention."

"'We'?" Imðr said. "Sigyn, there is no 'we' in this world. It's only you and yourself."

"Alright, alright," Sigyn said with an impatient sigh.

"But what hope does Sigyn have? Her father is lowborn, and she would have been lowborn as well if not for sheer luck."

Anger stabbed through Sigyn and she bore her teeth. "I have won my right to be here as much as you have, Eistla," she growled. "I have proved my strength, and so I have as much chance as you do."

"Hmph."

Sigyn stormed away, shoulders locked and she bristled with annoyance. She heard the group titter behind her.

"The poor dear," one of them sneered, "she truly has been thrown into the deep lakes; that's the problem with the common nobility: they cannot handle such situations as these."

Sigyn couldn't understand why it had upset her so much, but the reality of the situation was that hot tears stung her eyes. She sat back down at her place at the table, dabbing her unshed tears away on the furs on her shoulder.

"Sigyn Bláinsdóttir?"

She looked up to see the servant she had given the bristles to last night looking at her with an air of nervousness.

"Yes?"

"I have been bidden to return these to you quietly," he said. His hands opened to reveal her gift. "The prince sends his regards."

"I was rejected?" Sigyn said, crestfallen. "I have not yet had a chance to prove my strength."

The servant looked around a little nervously. "Everyone was rejected," he said in an undertone, "but not everyone has received their gifts back; many were destroyed, but I was able to rescue these."

Sigyn blinked in astonishment. "But why?"

"I cannot talk about it, nor should I be giving these to you." He smiled a little sadly. "I would take your tokens of affection elsewhere, good lady. The prince is … ah, you have seen what he can be like."

The servant darted away and Sigyn stared down at the golden bristles cradled in her hands.

_I am strong_, she told herself. _I will try harder. I will prove my strength to him in combat; I will not entice him with meaningless gifts._

She tucked the bristles away carefully, stood and made her way to the doors, unsure about what she should do.

* * *

#

* * *

**LOKI** WOKE TO a cursing and groaning outside his chamber door. He sat up from the tight bundles of furs, scrubbing at his eyes and fiercely glad he had placed a locking spell on the door before he had gone to sleep.

"Loki!" Býleistr growled. "What the Hel did you_ do_?!"

Loki rolled off the bed, shifting to his jötunn form at the same time and banishing the spell on the door. He wrenched the door open to find Býleistr centimetres from his face, teeth glinting in the low light.

"Oh, calm yourself down," Loki snapped loudly. He clicked his fingers next to Býleistr's ear and the jötunn cringed, putting his hands to his head and groaning quietly. "Aren't hangovers bitches?"

"You got me drunk last night?" Býleistr said hoarsely.

"Yes I did," Loki said, grinning. "You were very affectionate towards me; where's it gone now? Because, after all, a drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts. Can I still call you 'brother'? And, for I'm curious, what did you mean about how you never heard the end of the Allfather taking me?"

Loki could have sworn Býleistr's fingers twitched towards his shoulder. Loki frowned.

"When this headache is gone," Býleistr fumed, "you will be a smear on the ground, am I clear?"

"Unmistakeably," Loki said coolly. "But come on! Another big day ahead, brother dearest!"

Býleistr swore at the volume of Loki's voice, leaning against the wall and clutching his head tightly. Loki didn't have to wait long until the servants came to prepare him for the day. He hummed as they attached the shoulders plates, the buckles clicking as the leather straps were threaded together. His good mood was not to last for long, for when Loki exited the antechamber, the serving maid from the evening before was there, more gifts on her tray.

Loki groaned. "Take them away," he said irritably.

"Will you order the destruction of these things too, my lord?"

"Just take them away; I don't want to see them again."

The serving maid sighed heavily and bowed, picking the tray up and leaving the room. Loki had his breakfast there, unwilling to confront both Laufey and Býleistr in the dining hall; he wanted to avoid them in private for as long as he could. He crossed to the only window in the room, worrying at a piece of rather frozen meat with his teeth as he looked upon Útgarða. Jötnar were streaming to the castle gates, or what was left of them as they had been blown apart by the Æsir during the war. Loki found himself wondering, not for the first time, why Jötunnheimr hadn't rebuilt itself; the war had ended over a millennium ago, and yet the realm was in huge disrepair.

He guessed there to be maybe three hundred jötnar coming forth, and he wondered briefly where the majority of them went, seeing as maybe a third of that number was invited to feast with them during the midnight and dawn meals. His question was answered a moment later as a large number of the group halted in the courtyard and were greeted by the castle servants. After brief smatterings of conversation, the jötnar were directed into groups of maybe twenty and were brought mounts.

The animals were lithe looking things with huge tusks protruding from their jaws and long snowy manes. Reins had been attached to the tusks and were tied around thinly padded leather saddles strapped onto the creatures. The long necks were painted with different patterns. Whip thin tails swiped lazily across the ice.

"Hunting parties, my lord," one of the guards stationed at the door offered in explanation. "They will return just before the dawn feast and those who kill the biggest prey will be invited to dine upon it."

"What are they hunting?"

"In the lakes, they will hunt marmennill, whose blood will be mixed with honeyed herbs to offer, what they say, are visions of the future. In the oceans they will hunt lyngbakr, for the fat they offer is quiet delicious and filling. On land, they will hunt bligesnipe who offer plentiful meat that can feed a hundred. From the air they will hunt valravn, and their feathers will be used for decoration, warmth and magic."

Loki tasted the words of the creatures on his tongue. "Eat them at the dawn feast? If they return only just before then, the food will have to be prepared until at least tomorrow."

"Many of these meats we eat raw," the guard said.

Loki swallowed his shudder of disgust and turned back to the window. Whilst he had always been inclined to have his meat rare and slightly bloody – for reasons he now despised to understand – the thought of eating straight from a carcass appalled him.

One of the hunting parties took off through the gates, the long strides of the creatures they rode eating up the ground beneath them. Soon, they were no more than dark shapes on the unbroken snows on the plains surrounding Útgarða.

"We will eat well for the next few weeks with so many hunters," the other guard said, an air of anticipation in his voice.

Loki said nothing. He pulled himself onto the ledge and wrapped his arms around his knees, continuing to watch Útgarða stirring into life below.

* * *

#

* * *

**"RETURN **SAFELY, sire," Sigyn said, passing the reins of the káshta to him.

Bláin chuckled, leant down and cupped her chin in his palm. "I will, and I will join you tonight in celebration. You prove yourself tonight, my sweet. Make that prince fight for your hand."

Sigyn nodded, her stomach twisting in knots. She hadn't told him about the bristles she had been returned and they seemed a heavy weight in the satchel at her side. She ran her hand over the tough skin of the káshta beast, fingers tangling in its long white mane before she stepped away. She waved her father and his hunting party – comprised of his cousins, brothers and sisters and Sigyn's own cousins and siblings – out of the high gates of Útgarða.

Sigyn sighed and turned back to the foreboding castle, wishing she was speeding across the ice on her own káshta mount. It was an intimidating thing made of black stone and shimmering, diamond-like ice which split the air like a knife, easily rising for two hundred metres in the air. Rooms and caverns had been carved into the natural rock, the windows illuminated at the edges by the silver moons hanging in the sky.

Sigyn's eyes wandered up the rock and, steeling herself for another night, stalked to the doors. Once she had shown the guards flanking them the invitation which had been written on a snowshoe hare pelt and bore the royal crest, she was allowed access into the castle. The atrium was abuzz with early evening activity, several groups interspersed throughout the room and talking in quiet voices. Sigyn looked around, quickly spotting her newly made friends and she started towards them, a shy smile gracing her lips.

"Good evening," she said as she slipped into the circle.

"Oh, good evening, Sigyn," Imðr said, straightening her back as Sigyn joined them.

"I am sorry I left so suddenly last night," she started, but Imðr held up a hand to silence her.

"I'm glad you brought that up," she said and Sigyn felt another flutter of unease pass through her chest. "I must say, that was rather embarrassing on your part, was it not? To have your eyes grow wet?"

"I … I am afraid to say so," Sigyn said quietly.

Imðr nodded. "Your tears a sign of weakness, and we would rather not be seen socialising with the likes of you, especially in the presence of the royal family."

"You want me to leave you," Sigyn said bluntly.

Imðr gave her a look which suggested sympathy, but was far from the mark; Sigyn was not worth the effort. "I am glad you understand," Imðr said.

Sigyn resolutely walked away, angry with herself. She had thought she'd found some sort of friendship here, but it was not apparently so. Her father had always laughed quietly at how hard it was for Sigyn to make friends, and how she held so tightly to the ones she had made. A fiercely loyal companion, she had been called by her childhood friend Atla. And so, every time a friendship of hers had broken, Sigyn wilted inside.

"Are you alright, my dear?"

Sigyn felt a hand on her shoulder and she jumped. She whirled around, hand curling into a fist and a half-thought formed in her mind until she realised this woman was no threat to her.

A smile crinkled around Glut's mouth as she took her hand from Sigyn's shoulder. "You certainty have spirit," she said, amused.

"I have been told so before," Sigyn said.

"Oh, do not look like that, it is a great compliment!" Glut said, laughing lightly.

Sigyn had heard quite a lot about Glut. She was a fighter through-and-through, and she had been talented enough to catch the eye of Býleistr when he had been seeking a mate a century ago. They had spent time together, but Glut had been challenged to hólmganga by Grýla and beaten by her. Glut had become a shadow on the edge of society, and she was still nursing her wounds after all this time. Bitter, was what she had been called now, but Sigyn could not see any signs of it.

"And it is a compliment I thank you for," said Sigyn, bowing her head.

Glut laughed again and took Sigyn's arm in hers. The thought of Loki floated to the front of Sigyn's mind, then; Glut had held him like this at dawn the night before.

"What is your name? I am afraid I do not recognise your house lines," Glut said as they strode across the room.

"I am Sigyn of House Bláin," Sigyn informed her. "We are but a newly formed noble house, so I am not surprised you did not recognise my lines."

"How did you become a noble house?" Glut said. She seemed interested in the topic and if it held no real concern for her, Sigyn thought, Glut was doing a marvellous job of hiding it.

"In the war, my father led a charge against an Æsir battalion and won against astounding odds; Laufey-king elevated his status," Sigyn said.

"But that would mean he would have taught his daughter to fight," Glut said, her eyes alight. "And he must have taught you well, for you are here amongst the most esteemed guests."

"I am pleased my abilities are what they are," Sigyn said. "I was not expecting to defeat so many opponents and be shortlisted amongst the highest sixty."

"It is a great achievement, and even if you are not successful as fifty-nine women will be, it will be a grand story to tell many years in the future," Glut said.

Sigyn smiled. "It is my hope to gain the right to stay at the side of the prince and provide him strong offspring."

"As is the dream of every woman who competes for the prince's attention." Glut smiled at her, warmth alight in her eyes. "Please, it would be my honour if you would join my friends and I for the dawn meal tonight. I think you shall like them very much."

"I…. Yes, that would be wonderful." Sigyn bowed her head and turned away as the conversation finished.

* * *

#

* * *

**THE **NIGHT PASSED in a blur for Loki. He was swept from place to place to be shown off and, by the end of it, his facial muscles were aching from the forced smile he had worn. Laufey had not let him out of his sight and it was something Loki found annoying. But then again, he told himself as he looked to Býleistr and how continued to nurse his headache throughout the day, he had to admit to himself he wasn't sorry for what he had done. The crown prince rolled the herbs he had been chewing on to help alleviate the effects of the alcohol through the night around his tongue, spitting out a mouthful onto the floor as Loki watched. Loki was just glad Býleistr was too preoccupied with licking his wounds to smash him as he had threatened.

The hunters had returned triumphant. Two parties were invited to the feast that night; one had killed a huge lyngbakr which was busily being prepared in the underground kitchens, and the other party brought in the kill of a valravn, a prize of great worth. It was a giant bird with coal black feathers that glistened in the icy light, wicked talons and a sharply curved beak. Beautiful tail feathers lay artfully smoothed out on the floor and they reflected a hundred thousand colours of the rainbow; Loki wanted to touch them, to examine them; he wanted them so _badly_. The beak and talons were hacked off by the head of the hunting party and presented to Laufey on bended knee.

"My king," the hunter said, laying the claws and the beak in front of the dais as if he were handling glass, "the prizes of a young female valravn. Her talons are sharp and her beak like obsidian. Her feathers and bones shall serve whoever you present them to well."

"Keep them for yourself and your hunters; they deserve such prizes for this magnificent kill. But—" and here Laufey's eyes strayed to his queen and eldest son "—I claim the tail feathers of your kill, as is my right as your king."

"They shall be given to you, your highness," the hunter said. As soon as the words had left his lips, three jötnar sprung forth and pulled the nine tail feathers from the bird's rump.

"I gift these feathers to my queen and mate, and to my eldest son."

Loki swallowed his bitter disappointment in not getting them as they were carried off.

When Laufey took his place at the table as the lyngbakr meat was brought to them, he said, "When you start to prove yourself loyal, I shall gift you these sorts of treasures, too."

"I did not want them," Loki lied.

"Your words say one thing; your body language and eyes another."

Loki swallowed his irritation and busied himself with the cut of lyngbakr placed before him. It was delicious, and the rawness of the meat, which had been smothered in some sort of sauce, was oddly enticing to him; Loki found himself licking his fingers clean for every last bloody drop. He found himself asking for another cut which he eat just as quickly, humming with satisfaction as he pushed his empty plate away.

Loki did not loiter at the end of the feast. He stood and walked from the room, brushing people off with an irritated wave of a hand until he almost sprinted to the doors. Wrenching them open, he slipped outside and walked to the end of the corridor quickly, taking random twists and turns until he was sure no one had followed him. Loki fell against the wall, breathing heavily through his nose as he slid down to half-crouch. Arms curled to his chest, he let his thoughts run. He just wanted time to sit and think, something he wouldn't get in the next six days until the tree had melted at least.

"I saw him turn down there," someone said and Loki cursed quietly under his breath and he cast a quick glamour over himself with a flick and twist of his fingers. But no woman or servant came around the corner to fetch the wayward prince. Rather, it was Helblindi who padded down the corridor, peering into empty chambers.

"Loki?"

Loki stood with a sigh and banished the magic, sliding out from his shadowed area of the corridor and offering a smile. "Hey there."

"Ah, Loki!" Helblindi bounced towards him and took Loki's hand in his.

"Going to take me back to the feast? To socialise?"

"No," Helblindi said. "Mama was just wondering where you'd gotten to. I'm not going to make you go back if you don't want to. Why don't you want to?"

"Take a guess."

"The women."

Loki dipped his head in confirmation. "I only have so much patience for such things; politics I will listen to for hours quiet happily, but courting? I cannot unless I chose to engage in it for myself on my own terms."

"Just wait until the fighting starts," Helblindi said with a wolfish grin. "They'll be tripping over each other to show you their strength."

"The strengths that lie in falling over each other? Hardly a good trait for anyone to have."

Helblindi laughed. "They want to get to know you so you will watch for them in the hólmganga they participate in. And whilst Yggdrasil still stands, peace must ensure between all. We don't fight under Ymir and Auðumbla's creation."

"Then why do they fight sometimes?" The image of the two jötnar fighting on the first night came to the front of his mind.

"Because it is good natured." At Loki's questioning look, Helblindi continued, "They're not trying to rip each other's throats out; that comes later."

Loki raised an eyebrow and Helblindi laughed again.

"I'm joking, I'm joking. The idea is to only force the opponent into surrender, and it is rare that it ends in death and when it does, it's usually accidental."

"Why not death?"

"Death is glorious and strong; surrender and defeat is humiliating and weak, so much so even hated enemies will not kill each other. When hólmganga is fought for the right to rule, it is important that the loser is not killed then. The loser to such high challenges of hólmganga is executed before all where they must face their shame."

"Are there any other rules to hólmganga?"

"Uh … no death or murder if it can't be helped, no weapons in most cases," Helblindi listed off his fingers, "no outside help or influence, no breaks or rests, must be fought on a flat and open area … oh, and no magic."

"All hand-to-hand?"

"It's to even the field to unfair advantages, and it shows who truly is strong by themselves. It's also dishonourable to fight dirty. I remember when Býleistr was looking for a mate, there was a jötunn woman who kicked snow into her opponent's eyes and beat her that way, but she was scorned and ridiculed because it was unfair. Hólmganga are bloody, too. A father of my friend's lost three teeth and an eye to hólmganga many years ago, but he was victorious; he wears his scars with pride."

Loki bit at his lip, thinking. It was barbaric, he thought, but it was raw, and it was as even as it could be. "Sixty women," he muttered. "Sixty all fighting for my attention."

"I know! Isn't it exciting?" Helblindi said, wringing his hands and grinning wildly.

Loki's mouth twitched in a smile. "Fárbauti told me to expect to fight in such a thing," he said.

Helblindi's face dropped to one of worry and he cocked his head. "You _can_ fight, can't you?"

Loki thought the question ridiculous. "Of course I can fight. Weapons; no weapons; with _words_." His preferred style of combat, he didn't add. He was picking patterns out in the jötnar social system, and he found himself honestly annoyed about how strength was still as highly prized on Jötunnheimr as it had been in Asgard. But it made sense, he thought. Jötunnheimr was a harsh and unforgiving world, and a place where only the strong survived. Having the strongest jötnar mate together … it ensured strong offspring that would have the best chances of surviving. And the royal family was the cream of the crop, a position built of blood and death as they fought their way to the top.

"They're eager for your attentions," Helblindi said. "You're royalty, and it's expected that you're strong. And like it or not, that night you fought Býleistr? You had an audience of those women who stayed behind to have another chance. They would have told the others about your skill."

Loki swore under his breath. "I can't lose on purpose, can I?"

Helblindi shook his head. "You'll be driven out, ridiculed, and your horns may even be taken from you. There was a princess once who was defeated in hólmganga and her horns were broken off, fashioned into a crown and worn by the winner for the rest of her years. You have no choice but to fight and win, and win well. But why would you want to lose on purpose?"

"Peace," was Loki answer. "Peace for myself."

"Peace in death, more like it, against the Mother of Oblivion; against Hela, what have you."

Loki nodded. If there was one thing he didn't want, he thought, it was that he didn't want to die.

* * *

#

* * *

**SIGYN **WATCHED LOKI leave the feast before turning back to the meat in front of her. Again, she couldn't help but notice certain things about him; the lethal grace with which he held himself; how the horns pulled his chin to the floor ever so slightly with their weight; how he looked at every face with a hint of wariness as he made his way through the throng of jötnar before slipping out quietly.

"You, Sigyn, have been truly charmed."

Sigyn flicked her eyes back to the group, quickly saying, "Is there anymore lyngbakr?"

Glut and her group of five friends laughed.

"Sigyn, my dear," Glut said after she had calmed down some, "it is obvious to everyone from Muspelheimr and back you are quite smitten with our new prince."

"Who isn't?" Sigyn said in her defence.

"Personally, I would like to see him fight before I make a judgement of him," one of Glut's friends said.

"You've heard of his skills, though," Sigyn pointed out. "We've all heard of how he defeated Býleistr within seconds the other night. If that is not strength, then I do not know what is."

"_I've_ heard he fights like the Æsir fight: with steel and tricks," one said dismissively. "Whilst the Æsir might have more technique behind their fighting, I prefer brute force than to side-stepping and quick ends. I prefer jötunn fighting styles."

"Then why are you still here?" Sigyn said. "You are free to leave at any time you want, but yet here you are."

"She has quite the tongue in her head, does she not?" the jötunn woman said with a snort. "I stay because of his position, his beauty and his ability to sire strong offspring, nothing more."

"More lyngbakr meat, Lady Sigyn?" a servant said, presenting another cut to Sigyn. "You wished for more."

"I … a small one, then."

Sigyn ate quickly before excusing herself. She crossed to the side of the room, making small talk with those she came to and those who sought her company for a few minutes, but she thought nothing of the proceedings. All she could actively think of was Loki, and the hate blazing in his eyes.

* * *

#

* * *

**"I'M** NOT SURE I particularly like this sort of fighting," Loki said.

Angrboða chuckled as she charged at him again. Loki stepped away, but she had been anticipating the move and thrust her leg out. Loki's feet became tangled within and Angrboða swiftly brought one of her fists around and sent him sprawling.

"You know," he said, a hint of anger in his voice, "when I asked you to help me understand more about the hólmganga, I did not extend to you an invitation to beat me into the ground."

"Pain is one of the best teachers," Angrboða said. "It is how my father taught my brother and I. It worked well enough for me."

"Some part of you just wants to hit me, doesn't it?"

Angrboða gave a smile for her answer.

Loki was rankled, but kept his obscenities to himself. He hadn't gone to any of the feasts in the last three nights, instead seeking out Angrboða's company. She'd offered herself to him as a friend, a friend who wanted nothing romantically and sexually with him, and it was something he struck for with great eagerness. So he had asked her to help him understand more about hólmganga, realising it was more important to know about this central jötunn custom than to keep his pride in front of one person; he had no reason to think that Angrboða would say anything to anyone else; he could see that wasn't part of her personality to flaunt the ignorance of others.

"You told me that, in Asgard, clawing and biting are considered womanly," Angrboða said. "Here, they are some of your greatest allies. Your claws are sharp, and they can do a lot of harm when used right. Use them for soft spots: eyes; armpits; throat; groin; you know the rest." To demonstrate her point, she raked her claws down Loki's arm and he yelped, hand flying to his arm and he felt blood on his palm. "You know, I like teaching and lectures that don't involve physical pain," he snapped.

"My teaching style thrives on it, so adapt. Now fight me."

Angrboða struck, but not with her fists of feet, but with her arm encased within a thick layer of ice. Loki didn't know what he was doing, but the first thing that jumped into his mind was to put his arms together, elbows and palms touching each other and _freeze_. Angrboða's ice shrieked as it ground against Loki's and he kicked her away, wrenching his arms apart and the ice broke easily at his command. He swung his arm around, aiming for her head, but Angrboða caught his strike. She grunted at the force behind the blow. Loki may have been half a millennium younger than her, but he was physically stronger.

He extended the ice on his arms, noting with frustration how shapeless they were, and slashed at her, breaking the ice from his elbow to wrist to allow greater movement. Angrboða was forced onto the defence. Her own arms were now covered in ice. Loki hacked at her, dancing on light feet as he struck at her with the grace he had been taught to fight with from his youth, to harness his natural agile movements. He was beating her, and she knew it. And it was her desperation that was her downfall.

Angrboða lunged at him, a move that was clumsy and Loki freed his hands from the ice at once. He moved behind her, grabbed her elbows and froze her forearms together. She wriggled, trying to break from his ice, but Loki would not allow it. He kicked her legs out from under her and she fell to the floor with a grunt of pain. He followed her down and pressed his claws against her throat before she could move away from him.

Her eyes sparkled. "Well done. Perhaps there is some hope for you yet."

Loki touched her icy manacles and she shook herself free. She sat on the floor whilst Loki straightened up.

Breathing heavily, she said, "I've never seen anything quite like that."

He shrugged. "I was trained to fight with weapons predominantly. Thor was always the one more oriented to hand-to-hand. I was taught it, but I never quite got to his skill level. I didn't know you were allowed to use ice in the fighting."

"There are two types of hólmganga: one is where we are permitted to use ice, the other is when we are not. Many hólmganga will be fought without ice, as it is seen as a greater victory if you do not have to resort to sharp-edged weapons. If you want to make an impression upon the jötnar, do not fight with ice. You fight like the Æsir fight, and it will not help your cause."

"My cause to belong? I didn't realise I had a cause."

"Life will be much easier for you," Angrboða said simply. "What will help you even more is if you stopped avoiding the feasts and just went. Surely you must have endured many other political dinners and parties in Asgard."

"The difference between those ones and this one," Loki said, "was I was not expected to take any personal interest in any woman there. It would not be expected of me to remain chaste during these things, but I had the choice to say no, which I often did. I've never been one for attention, either."

"Was that Thor as well, then?"

"Yes," Loki muttered, crossing his arms and looking away from her. "Yes it was."

* * *

#

* * *

**FINALLY, **after what seemed like the longest time, the last night of the celebrations came. The icy Yggdrasil was nothing more than a singular trunk in the middle of the main hall, holding on the realm of Jötunnheimr on a single branch.

Laufey stepped forth to take it from its nesting place. He lifted it gently with both hands, cradling it as if it were a newborn and didn't flinch as the rest of the tree subsequently collapsed. Loki had to fight from raising an eyebrow; instead he stood quietly by his seat, staring blankly over the heads of the jötnar as Laufey said, "One last feast, and then this celebration officially ends. But may your songs not end on this night, may this time of happiness live on within our souls until the stars themselves die."

_Yes, yes, very poetic_, Loki thought impatiently, _now hurry up; I want to leave._

But apparently, leaving was not something he was permitted to do that night. He thought of misbehaving in some fashion, but he noticed Laufey's eye trained on him throughout the night and Loki did not dare to do anything that would cause even the slightest bit of upset. As inclined he may have been to humour and smatterings of Chaos, he valued his skin above all things. So, disciplining himself, he endured polite chatter with many of the feast goers, smiling forcibly and talking of many meaningless and boring things. Soon enough, he had gathered a crowd, most of whom, he noticed with frustration, were largely female.

_This is getting out of hand_, he thought.

A story came to him, one from his childhood where there was a man who was stuck with the exact same problem as he was at that moment. Loki couldn't remember his name for the life of him, but he did remember that this man had taken to dressing up in skirts to avoid the attention and fit himself with the female crowd. None of them paid any attention to him behind his silk vale and mink, as each of them was searching for their disappeared love. But however much Loki was labelled _ergi_ back in Asgard, he thought slipping on a dress would not help his situation, but would only make him look like a fool. Even with glamours of invisibility, his horns would still be there and solid objects, could still be touched and discovered in an instant, and his scars would still be present. He could not afford to go around Jötunnheimr in his Ás skin, either. He was well and truly caught.

A jötunn woman slipped herself into the small crowd; her eyes trained on Loki as many of the eyes around him were, but it was them at made him look up. There was _something_ behind them which caught his attention, a deeper _searching_ that was not present in other pairs of eyes.

The girl – for she was hardly old enough to even be called a woman – looked away at once when their eyes met. Despite himself, there was some faint stirring of curiosity. Angrily, he shook himself and turned his attentions back to the crowd, immersing himself in yet more mindless, boring, endless chit-chat.

* * *

#

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**SIGYN** COULD NOT help but look away when Loki met her eyes. Girlish shyness woke within her and she turned her eyes downwards, instantly regretting her rash actions. Why did she look away? Why? It was weak, she thought, and she could only just imagine Loki's instant unwant for someone who showed such weakness. Sigyn was not someone who found strength of mind an easy thing. She had to work hard to keep her true personality hidden behind an emotionless façade, but under such pressure as this, she told herself, of course she had slipped.

And it infuriated her.

"Are you looking forward to the hólmganga tomorrow night, my lord?" someone said.

Loki's body language spoke of indifference, but his words, ever smooth, said, "I look forward to seeing your strength and skills."

"And is my lord likely to choose some few suitors and then narrow his choices over the coming years?"

Loki said nothing, just turned his gaze upon the jötunn woman who had spoken and she flinched away from it.

There was a quiet chill in the air after that, and Sigyn found herself looking up at Loki again. He wasn't looking at her; rather, he was looking over their heads. Anger was evident in every line of his body and Sigyn wished only to smooth it away. Again, that image of her and Loki came to her, and she held close her fantasy throughout the night, wishing for something she knew she would never have. She was not as strong as some others here. And he was unwilling to give his attentions to those who were.

She did not notice that his gaze kept slipping back to her, too.

* * *

**The next chapter will be a Thor chapter.**

**As for when the next update will be, it will probably be sometime around my birthday because I just cannot write as much, I'm sorry to say. *sobs at school and HSC and everything* I apologise also for the short chapter; I just don't have the time to write longer ones at this current time.**

**_—aylithe_**


	8. Chapter Eight: Gamla Uppsala

**You know how I said I wouldn't update until my birthday had gone by? Well, I lied. I didn't want to leave you guys hanging on for another week.**

**FBut going on. Firstly, thank you so much for +50 follows! This, for me, is the most I have ever had on this site (previous record being 21). Thank you every one of you who has added this to their alerts; I get a little chill every time my phone buzzes with an e-mail telling me someone else cares enough about this thing to follow it.**

**Secondly, OMG GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY TRAILER *spaz***

**Guest Reviewer 18th Feb: That was a guest review answer chapter; this is the actual Ch 8 :)**

**Guest Reviewer 19th Feb: I'm glad I can make you smile! Logyn happenings are just too damn cute not to smile at. And OMG that story was absolutely _adorable_ *presses the favourite page button so hard***

**Sounds like you have a lot of beef with the fandom, I'll give you that. And there was no Sigyn?! *rages* I mean, I can totally see Loki having affairs with humans, but anything past a one-night stand? No way in hell. I had a look at the manga after you told me about it and I gave up about a third of the way into the first chapter; I can only take so many stories where a young girl turns up with a lost memory and is dressed in a sexy maid's outfit. Fenrir turning into a labrador and Loki spouting Japanese stuff just goes against his whole characterisation in my mind; my myth!Loki, and therefore my headcanon, would never do that; vicious thing, he is.**

**And we return to our favourite Thunder God (well, mine, anyway). Step aside, Zeus!**

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_**PART ONE — ONCE**_

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

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**"NORTHLAND!"**

Thor was startled into reality by Fandral's sudden exclamation. "What?" he asked somewhat sluggishly. The book he had been pouring over earlier that morning had lost his attention a long time ago, and the words slugged their way through his mind. Loki had been the scholar out of the pair of them.

He'd told Thor countless times that he needed to get into the habit of it. "Because, when you're king, as you will be," he'd said, "you'll need these sorts of skills."

Thor had, as he was inclined to do, ignored the advice as it hadn't benefited him at that present time. Now he was kicking himself.

"Don't you remember?" Fandral said, leaning on the bench to look at the prince with a raised eyebrow. "Years ago; when we went to Midgardr with the Allfather because of an Ævaleysa which led to Jötunnheimr."

Thor sat up, back straight and looking around nervously. "Keep quiet," he said in a low whisper, "Heimdallr might choose this moment to turn his gaze upon us. Not to mention the guards." His eyes slid to the two guards who stood at the end of the bookcases, bored after standing there for hours watching their prince.

Fandral's excited expression fell into one of nervousness in the blink of an eye. He sat down next to Thor, peering at the book open on the bench in front of him. A look of understanding dawned on his face as he read a few sentences.

"I wish to understand more about my brother's race," Thor offered in explanation. This tome, and the few others he had found on the jötunns and their realm, Thor read with a heavy heart. They denounced the jötunns to nothing more than beasts, something which everyone knew, having grown up on stories of the violence they inflicted wherever they went and their savage customs. And Loki, even with all his faults, was not a beast. But that didn't mean he didn't have the capacity of being such. He was civilised, unlike those beasts that claimed his blood.

"I've been thinking hard," Fandral said in barely more than a murmur. "The Bifröst is still closed to Jötunnheimr, and will be for an indefinite amount of time until things have settled, but that in itself might take decades, even centuries, but we cannot wait that long."

"Would we able to find safe passage along the Ævaleysa?" Thor whispered back. "The energy connecting them, one of the stray roots of Yggdrasil itself, would rip someone apart were they not protected."

"I'm working on that," Fandral said. He picked up one of the books and started thumbing through it. His brow pinched as he came across an illustration of one of the many battles in the Asgard-Jötunnheimr War, the Einherjar orderly and covered in shining gold armour, and the jötunns with savage snarls, rough ice weapons and blood on their claws and fangs. Magic endowed within the ink made the picture move subtly, hair and cloaks stirring in a long forgotten wind. He shook his head. "I just can't believe it…."

"Neither can I, but it is reality, whether we like it or not," Thor said.

"You've known him since he could crawl, and you never suspected…?"

Thor's glare effectively silenced Fandral whilst answering his question at the same time. But it brought up a question of Thor's own: how many others apart from the Allfather and his wife knew about Loki's blood? Heimdallr, surely, for he would have been able to see Odin take Loki during the war, not to mention he'd always acted bitter to Loki, Thor realised nastily. Eir, possibly? But of course she would have; after all, she would not have delivered Loki as she had Thor. Some of the other healers and midwives, perhaps?

Thor pinched the skin between his eyes, shutting the books with _snap_s and tucking them under his arm. He stood and the guards straightened at once as Thor walked towards them, Fandral behind him. Thor had given up asking the guards to leave him alone and he found himself cursing his father yet again; he often did, these days. It had been a month and a half since Loki had been taken; a month and a half of sleepless nights and unpleasant days. Dreams kept coming to him in his sleep; dreams of his little brother ripped apart by the jötunns, dreams of him battered and broken and, most recently, terrifying dreams of his brother sitting on a throne of black ice and bones, huge dark horns shadowing red eyes as he demanded Thor to kneel before Jötunnheimr's king.

Next to his anger towards his father there were several other emotions: confusion was one of them, betrayal another, but there were two which were predominant in his mind: fear that his visions of Loki would come to pass, that he would be brainwashed into becoming just like the jötunns, and hatred to not only Odin for his decision, but to the jötunns. It was crippling in its own way and all he could think about for many days was shedding the blood of the monsters for ripping Loki away from him, for claiming him and, the biggest crime of all, for birthing his beloved brother jötunn.

He'd taken much of his anger out in the training grounds. Wooden mannequins, dummies stuffed full of hay and straw, shields, swords, spears, seaxes, stone, armour and helmets alike had caved under Mjøllnir's heavy blows as he'd poured his frustration and rage into the weapon. And each time he brought the hammer down upon an intended target, he imagined it was a Frost Giant's skull being crushed beneath his might. The books currently tucked under his arm fuelled his wrath all the more; his precious brother was trapped within the grips of the jötunns, and Norns knew what they were doing to him. When he had looked to Loki from the Hliðskjálf throne, the light bruises on Loki's flesh had not escaped his notice, or his even gaunter face and frame from what he suspected was the consequences of a period starvation.

"So, what are we to do?"

Thor frowned as he was pulled from his thoughts by Fandral's mutter. "Tell the others to meet me in my private suite after the meal tonight, and make sure they come quickly and quietly, preferably free of their escorts."

"This," Fandral said with a smile, "is a time where Loki would have had the perfect plan and the skillset with which to execute it."

* * *

#

* * *

**IT** WAS ONLY at his mother's insistence that Thor came to sit with her and the Allfather at dinner that night.

"We must start to heal ourselves," she had said, but he had noticed her eyes were wet with unshed tears when she had said it.

It was the imposed normalcy in the air which disturbed him the most. The rectangular table had been rearranged so, instead of Thor and Odin sitting on one side with Loki and Frigga opposite them respectively, his father's chair had been moved the head of the table and the other two centralised. Every time Thor looked up, he expected to see Loki sitting opposite him, but his heart withered a little when he saw his mother there instead. His plate had been piled high with steaming meats covered in gravies, herbs and grease, but his appetite was still gone. Everyone's was, he noticed; most of the food remained untouched.

"I have been told you have been spending a lot of your time reading," Odin said in an attempt to start conversation.

"Have they also told you what I have been reading of?" Thor asked bitterly, cutting up a piece of boar and spearing it on the end of his knife.

"Yes, and I am not surprised of your choice of subject," Odin said.

"What I have been reading … it makes my stomach turn," Thor said quietly. "Loki is not like that."

"I believe in him not to be corrupted by them," Odin said calmly. "That is my wish: that he will be the saviour of Jötunnheimr and bring about peace to them, to civilise them; that dream still lives, but it is not as strong as I once hoped it would be."

Thor's newfound anger towards his father twisted in his heart like a knot of barbed wire. "And when were you to tell him, to tell us, of this?" Thor asked bitterly.

"When both you and he were ready to know," Odin replied. "When he especially would have been able to understand how precious he is to these realms and how important he is to the peace."

"You meant to use him as a tool, then?" Thor demanded.

"Never, never as a tool," Odin said quickly. "You misunderstand me."

"I don't think I do," Thor growled.

"And this is why neither of you were ready to know," Odin said.

Thor closed his mouth and he stabbed angrily at the potatoes on his plate.

"Oh, Thor," Frigga said. Thor looked to her, to the tears in her eyes. "We wanted to give the both of you the greatest gift we could: the gift of peace."

"Peace in the form of lies?" Thor asked.

"We did what we did because Loki is our son," Frigga said compassionately. "We wanted him to feel no different from anyone else."

"He always felt different," Thor snapped.

"You do not know how many times we wanted to tell you two of the truth, but we held our tongues for both your sakes," she pressed.

Thor knew they were both right, that he was handling the news as badly as they had feared – and no doubt Loki was the worst off of the two – but he did not care for their pleading and begging for him to calm himself. He was a hair's breadth away from walking out of the room to his suite where he hoped the Warriors Three and Sif were waiting for him, without their guards.

"You have wronged not only him and myself, but yourselves as well," Thor said quietly. "If you had told us the truth from the beginning, perhaps we would have been more accepting of the situation."

"We took a gamble, and that gamble did not end well," Odin said.

"You think Loki's thoughts and feelings are nothing more than a die to be cast and played with?" Thor said, incredulous. "A gamble of a move in a game of _Hnefatafl_ in which one hopes the other player will swallow the bait?"

"Of course not," Frigga interjected, "how could you accuse us of such?"

"How could you have lied to him and make him hate what he is? So many times we laughed and cursed at the savageness and monstrous nature of the Frost Giants, and the both of you let it happen," Thor said sourly. He stood up, taking Mjøllnir from its resting place but his chair and stomping from the room; the cutlery and the glass in the window panes rattled with his heavy steps.

Thor strode blindly through Glaðsheimr, tapping Mjøllnir against his thigh and wishing to smash everything in his path. His mind was a howling storm and he wished for nothing more than for it to abate. And it would do so only with the return of Loki. He needed to talk to Fandral. Thor's guards were silent shadows behind him as he reached the gilded doors to his chambers in the castle, a multi-room complex which held sleeping-quarters, baths, wardrobes, suites and a place to store his armour and weapons when not in use. He threw the doors open, striding past the fountain playing idly in the atrium to find Sif and Volstagg waiting for him beyond.

Thor turned to the guards. "Stand outside the doors; I wish to speak in private."

"I'm sorry, my prince, but we have been instructed by the Allfather—" the younger of the two guards began, but Thor cut across him.

"These are my private chambers. Do your orders extend so far as you would watch over me whilst I sleep? Or bathe? Or would you still do so even if I choose to bring a woman back here to partake in my company?" Thor raised an eyebrow. "These are my halls and rooms to do as I please in, and I will not be shepherded by anyone. If I wish to talk and drink with my friends and companions in private, it shall be so. It would not be wise to test my patience at this time of sorrow."

The older, more seasoned guard, shook his head at his junior; he knew from many years of experience Thor would get his way somehow or other. The younger guard looked as if he were going to once again protest, but then, wisely in Thor's opinion, did as his elder did and followed him out of the door.

"And where are your escorts?" Thor asked of Sif and Volstagg.

"I never had any," Volstagg said cheerily. "Such are the benefits of an older and more mature man such as me."

"In other places throughout Glaðsheimr," was Sif's lofty reply.

Thor grinned at them. "Let us then step into my suite; it is safer there."

Thor opened the doors and strode in before the other two. A fire pit had been sunk into the floor, ringed by white rocks sitting on a bed of ashes. The polished black marble squeaked under their boots as they made their way to the gold couches lining the stairs to the pit. A flagon of wine had been placed on one of the tables to which Volstagg went eagerly. He poured himself a horn before draining it quickly.

"Why have you summoned us?" Sif said.

"I have not done the summoning; Fandral has," Thor said, a smile curling around his mouth. "He has had an idea that, if it is as good as he claims, may have us Loki back once more."

Sif nodded and Volstagg looked up, his eyes sparkling.

It wasn't a long wait before Fandral and Hogun entered together. Fandral had a spring in his step whilst Hogun was the opposite image to him: silent and his expression as grim as it always was.

"I can see we're the last to arrive," Fandral said, sweeping his gaze around the room as he sat himself neatly onto one of the couches.

"Yes, and so now tell us of what you have thought of," Thor said, leaning forward with his hands clasped upon his knees.

"Upon Midgardr," Fandral started, reaching for the wine flagon and pouring himself a healthy amount into one of the other horns, "when we were but children, we went to one of the sites where the mortals worshipped us; Uppsala, as you will recall."

"Yes, I remember," Thor muttered. A place of burial and worship, Uppsala had been an important place for the peoples of Midgardr who had held them as gods. Bright memories of silver hammers flashing at the throats of hundreds filled Thor's mind, and the pride he had in knowing that the real artefact would be his to hold one day had burned through him like fire.

"Then you would remember of why Odin Allfather went there," Fandral said. "A stray root of Yggdrasil, an Ævaleysa, had pierced the place allowing passage between Midgardr and Jötunnheimr possible."

"But it was sealed by the Allfather himself," Sif said suddenly. "Fandral, your memory may be strong, but we cannot hope to use it when it is closed."

"That is where I think you are incorrect," Fandral said, sipping at his wine. "The Allfather cast the spell to seal the Ævaleysa and, with the right skills, it can be opened again, such as the stitches holding a tear closed can be loosened."

"I rather think you are forgetting that we cannot do such a thing; none of us can even summon so much as a single breath of wind using magic," Volstagg interjected. "That was all Loki's area of expertise. Not to mention that if we dared to try and travel along it without magical protection of some sort, the journey alone would kill us."

"But Loki was not the only caster of magic within Asgard," Fandral said smoothly. "There is only one thing that can outstrip the Allfather's power in magic to open the Ævaleysa and also offer us warding, and that is power from something which he can never hope to obtain: the power of a woman's magic."

And the pieces fell into place.

Thor shook his head. "She hates Loki; she would not lift a finger to help him."

"I'm not asking her to come with us," Fandral said in exasperation, "we are merely seeking a favour from her."

"I'm missing something here, aren't I?" Volstagg said, frowning.

"Fandral wishes to go to the sorceress Amora." Hogun's voice had been quiet, but everyone had heard it nevertheless. "He wants to obtain from her a spelltag to allow safe access through the Ævaleysa."

"Exactly," Fandral said.

"We must try, for my brother's sake," Thor said. "I thank you, my friends, for coming here this night. Especially to you, Fandral, who, if this works, both Loki and I would owe you a great debt. We will meet here tomorrow at the first rising of the sun to seek out the Enchantress Amora."

* * *

#

* * *

**IT** TOOK AN age of standing around before the door to the Enchantress' home opened. At the sight of the group, she leant against the doorframe and raised a shaped eyebrow at her visitors before beckoning them in with a finger without a word. Thor, Sif, the Warriors Three and their guards walked in.

Her home was a huge space. The front door opened onto a veranda ringing around a small garden. Paths of white flagstones led to a pond in the centre. Thor swore he saw a kelpie – a horse-like creature with sky blue hide, a snow white mane and tail that were constantly dripping with water and coal black eyes – peering at the company through an entanglement of weeds.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, Prince Thor?" Amora asked, her long emerald dress sweeping past them on the white flagstones as she led the way through the garden. Her voice was rich and lush, a spell all on its own.

"To what do I owe you to have me wait upon your doorstep for twenty minutes?" Thor asked coldly as he stomped behind her.

"The place was a wreck; I had to tidy up," she said unconvincingly. Reaching the end of the garden, she came upon a heavy wooden door which she opened with a light touch. It swung inwards to a room flooded with light. Drying herbs and animal pelts hung from the beams; bottles of brightly coloured liquid lay on shelves around the room. In the corner, a cage with a venomously green snake inside stood, and the reptile itself was curled languidly around a tree branch.

"Stay outside the door," Thor told the guards.

They nodded and the door closed.

Amora said, faced the five of them with an inquisitive glance. She rested her hands on one of the many tables in the room, and Thor couldn't help but notice her nails were painted a shimmering green.

"This is about that jötunn brother of yours, is it not?" she said.

Thor's stomach dropped to his knees; how did she even know?

"Oh, do not look so shocked," she said. "I have known for a long time of what he is. His magic has that distinct jötunn bite to it which is impossible for a trained individual like me to ignore."

"And you never mentioned it to him?" Thor said darkly.

Her eyes flashed with amusement. "It hardly seemed important at the time. We were busy doing _other_ things."

"We have not come here for such discussion," Thor said lowly. Banishing the slightly disturbing images of Loki and Amora, he continued, "I wish to obtain from you a spelltag."

"Oh, what is this, now?" she said, turning slowly on the spot and her golden hair shimmered like faerie dust on the wind. "You come to me now that your fanatically devoted magician has gone?"

"Say another word against my brother and you will regret it," Thor growled, pointing Mjøllnir at her.

Amora scoffed and tossed her hair to the side. She had always infuriated him with her blatant disrespect, and he was in no mood to tolerate it now. "I have no wish to help Loki from any predicament he might find himself in, no matter how dire."

"If you will not help us willingly, I will force you to," Thor said, voice laced with threat.

But Amora was not impressed by this. "My services are granted to those whom catch my interests, and I have no want to help you when you plan on helping Loki of all people."

"Have you no heart?" Volstagg said suddenly, but Sif threw him a warning glance.

Amora's eyes glittered with amusement. "Loki and I despise each other, and our relationship has always been such."

"I thought you were—" Fandral started, but Amora laughed.

"A relationship born of nothing but equal loathing; there was never anything like love between us, just want."

Thor had no want to even begin to understand the dance the two had participated in for all their decades together, and so Thor changed the subject somewhat. "I have gold if that is what you want in exchange for your magic." He inched his cloak aside, showing the fat coin pouch tied to his belt.

"Gold?" The Enchantress looked and sounded unimpressed. "When I distribute my work, it is because I find some personal interest or gain in the situation, not because I have been paid."

"Alright," Thor said, his grip on Mjøllnir shifting. "I have tried asking you patiently, but I will be walking out of here with a spelltag. Give me one now and you will be rewarded for your services to the crown prince."

"Ah, here we come to the pulling of rank," Amora mused, drumming her nails upon the table top. "What would you be planning to do with such a spelltag? I assume you plan on using it yourself, as you have not brought in the Allfather's name."

_Talking back means consideration_, Thor thought, hopeful.

"An Ævaleysa upon Midgardr. We are to reopen what my father has sealed shut."

"And I presume this is done without the Allfather's knowledge." Thor's silence was her answer, and she smiled; her teeth were blindingly white. "I like it; defying old One-Eye to bring back an amusing pastime. You have my ear, now."

"That was a rather sudden change of heart," Sif said, her voice clipped.

Amora shrugged. "I always enjoyed being a bad girl; going against the Allfather … one of the best kinds of things to do."

She flicked her fingers and a roll of parchment fell into her hand. She passed it to Thor and he opened it. Runes were scrawled in a fine hand upon the thick paper which was throbbing with magic.

"It's a one way use only," Amora said. "If you wish to get back without the use of the Bifröst, then it must be done with Loki's help." She smiled again. "I want to see what will happen; whether you will succeed in your mission, or be stuck upon that wreck of a realm that was the once glorious Jötunnheimr.

"Now be gone from here; my kelpie is not privy to strangers within her territory; those guards of yours might not last much longer."

The five of them exited the room with stiff shoulders, Thor stuffing the spelltag into his pocket as he pushed the door open.

Amora stopped them with a cluck of her tongue. She gestured with her hand. "I want my gold, Odinson."

Thor tossed it on the floor.

Amora's nose crinkled. "I thought princes were supposed to have manners."

Thor closed the door with a snap.

The guards looked relived to see them, and Thor saw the reason as to why at once. Within the middle of the pond, the kelpie stood. No longer a horse, it had taken the shape of a beautiful naked woman. She ran her tongue over filed teeth as the seven visitors marched around the veranda and made their way from Amora's home.

* * *

#

* * *

**THE **NEXT FEW days were spent to planning. The five of them had to be careful to hide their plans for Jötunnheimr from other friends and family and, in Thor's case, the rest of Glaðsheimr. The story was they were planning to go to Midgardr in search of battle with the Serpent Jormunganðr. But even with all his cautions, something in his mood did not go unnoticed by his parents, that infectious air of hopeful longing.

"I pray to the Norns you are not planning what I think you are," Frigga said seriously, strolling with her son through her private gardens upon her invitation. Birdsong filled the soft twilight and the scent of flowers in full bloom laced the air. The humid air of summer made Thor's hair stick to the back of his sweaty neck.

"It is nothing but an expedition to Midgardr," Thor said smoothly. "I have heard Jormunganðr is stirring within the depths of their oceans and, if he emerges, I wish to do battle with him. I need the distraction."

Frigga sighed heavily, bending down to pluck a blue hyacinth from one of the beds to twist and twirl in her fingers. She brought it to her nose to sniff and Thor waited patiently for her to continue.

"It has been quite a while since he has raised his head," Frigga murmured, "but I think that is not your true reason for wanting to travel to Midgardr."

"The last time I looked, Midgardr was not Jötunnheimr," Thor said testily.

"The two realms are nestled within the same level," Frigga said. "They are neighbours upon Yggdrasil's branches."

"As powerful as I may be," Thor said, "I cannot transverse the realms without the use of the Bifröst. Only Loki knew how to do such things."

Frigga crouched next to the hyacinth bed and began shuffling through the flowers, searching for some unknown quality to Thor within the blooms which, when she found them, she clipped with a pair of hand-shears before laying the flowers carefully onto a square of cloth she produced from a satchel at her side. "I know you have your limitations; everyone does," Frigga said, sorting the flowers neatly, "but your determination is something unrivalled. Once you set your eye onto something, you will not let it go easily. It's only been two months since Loki's … departure, and I know you better than anyone, my son. I know you will do everything in your power to get your brother back."

"As I said before, my companions and I are going to Midgardr, one of the safest realms within the cosmos," Thor said, insistent. "The mortals upon it are nothing more than children."

"But you always manage to find something to stir the peace," Frigga said.

"I will be sure to level my frustrations upon the Midgardr Serpent, then," Thor reassured her.

Frigga sighed, still picking through the flowers and for a few minutes, the only sounds were of the rustling of the leaves, the voices of the birds and the snips and clips of the shears.

"I'm proud of you," Frigga said suddenly, straightening up and bundling the flowers in her hand. "You've been such a pillar of strength to me over these past weeks, and you cannot even begin to grasp how thankful I am for that."

Thor laid a hand on his mother's shoulder, a small smile at his lips. "I am heartily glad I have been able to help you; I know how strong your bond with Loki is; he was always your favourite."

"I don't have a favourite out of my sons," Frigga said.

Thor gave her a smile. "I know better."

* * *

#

* * *

**THE** HORSE'S HOOVES pounded the Bifröst as Thor and the warriors sped across the bridge. It had taken huge efforts to persuade his father to leave the guards here for, he had argued, Midgardr was an unthreatening realm that would do them little harm, even if the humans tried to harm them. He had also said that, when they found Jormunganðr, they would only get in the way of his and the warrior's valiant efforts to do it battle.

"The Serpent is _my_ enemy, father," Thor said. "I still owe it much after Hymir cut the foul beast free of my fishing line the last time I was there."

Odin's trust in him still had to be gained back, so he had instructed Heimdallr to watch over them whilst they were upon the realm. Heimdallr was going to be a problem, Thor knew. The second he and the warriors opened the Ævaleysa, Heimdallr would notify Odin and they would be pulled back in a heartbeat.

Two solutions had been proposed. The first was that Odin wouldn't dare step foot upon Jötunnheimr in the near future, due to the huge political instability there. This argument was cut down almost instantly. The Allfather didn't have to use the Bifröst to go there as much as Thor and the warriors needed it at that time. He could simply follow them through the Ævaleysa.

The second was they could go back to Amora. Thor had spent a long time haggling with the Enchantress and, he noted with frustration, she had enjoyed his distress immensely. Eventually, he had managed to make her bend under his demand and she had given him a cloaking charm on a chain.

"As long as you wear this, Heimdallr will not be able to see you or your companions," she said. "But a word of caution: it is a temporary charm, and it will run out within a month. Be sure to use it soon."

With this in mind, Thor tucked the silver disc behind his chestplate as he dismounted his horse. Heimdallr was a silent sentient at the entrance of the HimmelbergetObservatory, his golden armour reflecting the hundred million colours of the galaxies in the skies.

"Gatekeeper Heimdallr, may we pass?" Thor questioned. "We wish to go to Uppsala in Northland upon Midgardr."

"As I have heard," Heimdallr replied in his deep, rumbling voice. His golden eyes flickered over Thor and the warriors as they came behind him, weighed down with weapons and packs. Volstagg carried two over his shoulder; one was his own, and the other was Loki's. If Heimdallr thought anything strange of the bag, which was one of Volstagg's own and had been jammed full of extra food and weapons in an attempt to disguise the true contents of the pack, he said nothing of it. Thor hoped the deception had worked.

Thor strode into the Observatory, the warriors flanking him as Heimdallr ascended the stairs to the Bifröst mechanism. He placed his huge sword into the slot and lightning arched from the handle. The Observatory hummed to life, the walls grating and groaning as they began to turn.

"Be warned," Heimdallr said, "the lives of the Midgardians are short and they are a forgetful race. Much has changed since you have last been there."

Thor grinned. "I am a son of Odin, and I do not need to be lectured on how I go about these realms that will one day be under my protection."

Heimdallr pushed the sword into the Bifröst and Thor, Sif, Fandral, Volstagg and Hogun were pulled into the beam. Rainbow colours swirled and roared around them as they hurtled through the cosmos. Vanaheimr and Álfheimr raced past them at terrifying speeds, and it was only a matter of a few seconds before the realm of Midgardr came into view. The company shot towards one of the huge swathes of land and they burst through the atmosphere, skies and finally touched down in upon grassy tundra.

The first thing Thor noticed was the scent of pollution in the air and he put a hand to his mouth and nose. Gases and foul smells were prevalent in the air, the scent Thor most often associated to the dwarven mines of Niðavellir. What in the name of Yggdrasil had these people done to their realm in a mere nine hundred years?

"This is Uppsala?" Sif said, looking around with a curious eye.

"It must be," Thor said. "Heimdallr is accurate in his setdowns."

"I do not recognise it," she said. "I remember it to be less … crowded."

"Regardless of the change of scene, the Ævaleysa will still be here. But first, we must establish ourselves; find a track or road and then find our way to our destination."

Finding the road was not hard at all. They came upon it within a couple of minutes, an expansion of black asphalt which stretched into a huge city. They walked along the centre of it, confused as to when metal transports shouted at them for doing so.

"These Midgardians are strange," Volstagg commented.

"Hörni, varför tar ni skitstövlar inte gångvägen istället?" a man shouted at them, jabbing at a smaller raised road running parallel to the main one. "Gå där!"

Thor gave a looked of perplexed amazement and led the way to the smaller road. "We get shouted at for walking down a perfect good expanse of road?" Fadnral said, shaking his head in sheer amazement. "These people…."

"This is their realm, so we must abide by their laws, even if it means we must walk along this footpath of theirs instead," Hogun said.

Thor shrugged. "Not as much room as I would like, but we cannot complain. Come, let us go to the burial mounds."

People stared at them as they made their way along the roads, their armour and weapons glinting in the sun, their cloaks and furs flapping around their ankles.

After asking for directions to the Temple, they came across a huge building made of red stone surrounded by a lawn. Thor cocked his head as he looked at it, trying to ignore the rumble and roar of vehicles behind him and the noisy sounds of construction from a building across the road.

"The Temple is not in the same position as it was before," Thor noted.

"I think it might be because it is _not_ the Temple we are looking for," Sif said pointing to a plaque on the building. 'Efs i Mikaelskyrkan' was what it read in Midgardian runes.

"Then we keep looking," Thor said. He looked around with a grimace of despair. "This is not going to be as easy as I thought."

Eventually, after asking after for the burial mounds – as that was where the Uppsala Temple had been near – they were pointed to the north of the city. The five of them trudged off, looking around with wide eyes at the city which was now so different to the two dozen wood and turf houses that had been on the site the last time they had visited. Houses started to get few and further between as they walked on, following signs marked 'Gamla Uppsala' as they had been instructed to do. The roads started to get narrower as well, the space quieter. They walked up a gravel road after Sif asked a woman where to go.

The gravel road opened up onto a space which held more vehicles, parked in front of a red sign which read 'Gamla Uppsala Museum' in white writing. The building it stood beside was boat-shaped and made of pale wood. Behind it were rolling fields dotted with small hills: burial mounds.

"What is this?" Fandral said. "Museum? Surely a thousand years is not that long enough a time to warrant the erection of a _museum_. That would imply the site is old."

"It is old to the Midgardians," Hogun pointed out.

"Ahh."

A long white vehicle marked _Swebus_ pulled around the corner, a harsh rumbling sound echoing from its metal hull. Thor stared as it stopped along the road and humans climbed out of it and started towards the boat shaped building.

"Welcome to Gamla Uppsala, which means 'Old Uppsala'!" a bright woman said as she exited the building. Her words were very carefully pronounced, as if the language she was speaking was not her first. "My name is Tia and I'll be your guide today. Are you guys all from the States?"

Several people nodded, but there were a few other countries were named from some of the tourists as they corrected the woman as to where they were from.

"The UK, Germany, Lithuania, and oh, Australia? Quite a distance! And are you all enjoying Sweden and Uppsala?"

There were murmurs of 'yes' and several nods.

"Wonderful!" Tia said, smiling. "Here is a map of the site with labels as to where things are and what their history is."

"Oh look over there, honey!" another woman said, tapping on a man's arm and pointing at Thor and the Warriors as they marched towards the building. "Excuse me, miss, who are they dressed as? Are they Viking gods?"

Tia looked up at Thor and a frown pulled at her face. "I'm sorry sirs, madam; are you looking for photo opportunities with these tourists? I'm afraid without a licence from the premises we cannot allow you to do so for a charge."

"Photos?" Thor said in the All-Tongue, frowning. "I know not what you mean."

Tia blinked. "Är ni från England? Er svenska har en brittisk accent…."

"I think she's asking whether we are from the Isle of Britain," Fandral said in the Æsir tongue.

Volstagg gave a chuckle and stepped forward. "Good lady, we seem to have lost our bearings. Please, would you be able to direct us to the high priest in charge of the Temple; we must speak with him."

"Templet? The Temple has not been here for centuries. Are you British? That accent—"

"We are of Asgard, gentle lady," Thor said. "I am Thor Odinson and these are my companions, the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three. Our situation is quite dire and we are in great need of assistance to find the Jötunnheimr Ævaleysa which we showed the good people of this settlement upon its discovery. I demand you take us to your high priest."

Tia's expression pinched in worry. "I'm sorry, _Jötunnheimr_? Is this part of an event of some sort? Or is it part of some sort of god presentation for the tourists?"

"Thor?" the tourist woman said. "Look honey! Quickly, take a picture of me and the God of Thunder!" She pushed a small black rectangle into her husband's hand and bustled over to Thor who felt perplexed. "Oh smile, handsome!" the woman said cheerily. "You mustn't look so sombre!"

"How do I do this again?" the man asked, fiddling with the rectangle.

"The camera icon, dear, which is the grey one. Tap the circle button when the screen comes up."

Thor only looked more confused as the man tapped the device as the woman latched herself around Thor's upper arm and he jumped with surprise. This mere human dared to be so intimate with him?!

"Beautiful picture, Bethy, it'll look great in the album."

"Thor, these mortals are mad," Sif hissed to him from the corner of her mouth. "They will not help us; we are wasting our time with them."

"Yes, we must move our search inside," Fandral said.

"Excuse us," Thor muttered, detaching himself from the woman and trying to go into the building, only to be blocked by more people.

"May I take a picture as well? My son is quite the Norse mythology enthusiast and it would please him ever so greatly to have a picture."

"You're so ripped, mister; I need this as a keepsake. And Lucy said there were no real Vikings in Sweden anymore. Tall, blonde and with a hell of a lot of muscles, if you aren't a Viking, then I will eat my shoes."

"Ah! Myjalnear! I must try to lift it and test my strength!"

"If you are trying to dress as Norse warriors, please could you try and be more historically accurate? Those costumes look like they belong in a comic book."

"Please, please!" Tia shouted, trying to calm the tourists down as they clamoured around Thor and the warriors. Their hands strayed to their weapons and Thor hefted Mjøllnir in warning. "The tour must be started before the next group arrive. So please, may I have your _undivided_ attention on me whilst I give you some more information before we continue further into the site."

The Æsir managed to slip away and regroup quickly after that, but Thor especially was dragged aside a few more times and told to smile for photos. After finally getting away, he said, "I think we should take matters into our own hands. If this is the sort of undignified reception we receive now from the mortals, I have no patience for a second round of it. They do not seem to understand the desperation of our plight, nor believe us. Every second of delay, Loki suffers all the more."

"I agree; that was tedious," Fandral said with a shudder. "We must collect our bearings ourselves and if we must find the Ævaleysa for ourselves once more, so be it."

The five of them trudged around the boat building and came along a gravel path leading to the burial mounds. Many people stared at them; some of them were locals, Thor guessed, as they had with them no black rectangles, were jogging and walking under the sun with children and prams. There were fewer burial mounds than they remembered, the space was now open fields and the mounds were smaller; it was only then Thor realised how much time had truly passed since he had last been here. They turned down a side path, ignoring the stares of a woman with strings in her ears as she ran by them. Thor heard some sort of music coming from them, a heavy synthesised beat which grated on the ears and something he found highly unpleasant. A fence separated the mounds from the path and they hopped over it easily, their feet sinking into the high, unkempt grass on the other side. Several other people who were walking along the path gave them dubious looks, and a child said, "Hörru! Ni kan inte gå där!"

"This way," Hogun said.

They trudged through the mounds covered in yellow and purple flowers, guided by faint stirrings of memory to where the Jötunnheimr Ævaleysa had been found by accident so many centuries ago.

"There is a chill in the air," Thor muttered after a few minutes. "It contradicts the warmth of the summer."

"That is the call of Jötunnheimr, my friend!" Volstagg said, slapping Thor on the back heartily. "And it is the call of your brother. We shall be reunited soon, and bound for many more adventures across the realms."

"Yes," Sif agreed. "The dwarfs have claimed to have found a great treasure in their home realm of Niðavellir; we must go and investigate."

"I like it," Fandral said, grinning.

It was Hogun who found the Ævaleysa, nestled between two of the mounds which Thor remembered to be taller and wider.

"Thor."

Thor strode forward, taking the spelltag from his belt and pushing it into the space Hogun had indicated. His fingers were chilled as he pushed it through the rippling air and then, gripping onto his friends' arms, Thor fell with them through a swirl of rainbow colours into the howling snows of Jötunnheimr.

* * *

**Firstly, I have never been to Sweden or Uppsala, but I am absolutely dying to go one day, both to there and to Abisko National Park especially. All the imagery and stuff I got from Google Earth and a tourist site. I apologise if I botched anything.**

**A huge thank you _miravisu_ over on AO3 for their help with the Swedish language. Thank you so much! To those who can't understand what's being said, here're some translations:**

**_"Hörni, varför tar ni skitstövlar inte gångvägen istället? Gå där!"_**** — **"Hey, how about you arseholes get onto the footpath? Walk there!"  
_"Är ni från England? Er svenska har en brittisk accent..." ******— **"Are you from England? You sound British..."_  
_"Templet?"******—** "The Temple?"_  
_"Hörru! Ni kan inte gå dä!"******—** "Hey! You can't go over there!"_  


**_Ævaleysa_ is the merging of the Old Norse words "ævi" and "leysa" which respectfully mean "time" and "tear".**

**A kelpie is "_... a supernatural water horse from Celtic folklore that is believed to haunt the rivers and lochs of Scotland and Ireland ..._" according to Wikipedia. I ain't talking about the dog breed, peeps.**

**Himmelberget was Heimdallr's hall in the mythology.**

**Next chapter is already written, but it's an interlude at just under a thousand words. They'll be five interludes in each part of the story (so there will be ten in total) looking back on the past. I'll post the first one in a few days after I get a start on my chapter buffer.**

**_—aylithe_**


	9. Interlude

**I can't help but notice the lack of views on the Thor chapters, which I find absolutely hilarious. The poor guy, the whole franchise is about him yet no one cares. For those who groan an roll their eyes and don't read the Thor chapters, too bad; I love Thor. *Aussie fistbump* There will be many more Thor chapters in the future.**

* * *

**_PART ONE _**—**_ ONCE_**

**INTERLUDE**

* * *

**_"WHAT WERE YOU_**_ THINKING?" Frigga demanded. "Bringing that … that _thing_ here?"_

_"He is but a baby, two weeks old at the most, and he had been abandoned." Odin looked at the child in his arms, the innocent, seemingly Æsir babe who was fast asleep within its rough fur blankets, a thumb slipped between its lips. "He is remarkably small, a runt, perhaps."_

_"Runt?" Frigga said, appalled. "When I was a girl, I had a dog that was considered the runt of the litter when he was born, but by the time he had grown, he was just as strong as his siblings. An undersized birth, perhaps, but babies grow." Frigga sat down heavily, shaking with rage. Had the pain of Odin losing his eye driven him mad?_

_"Why do you object to my wishes so much?"_

_"Because you have brought back to this realm not only a Frost Giant, but the spawn of Laufey! And you want to raise it … alongside Thor?! I have listened to many of your harebrained schemes before and supported most, but this is a new level of insanity. Kill the thing before it becomes dangerous; this is my opinion."_

_Odin sighed and sat next to her on the bed, still holding that Norns-forsaken monster as gently as he had held Thor when he had been the same age. The tenderness of his actions made Frigga want to grab his shoulder and shake sense into him._

_"I hope to build a more permanent peace between Asgard and Jötunnheimr through this child," Odin said after a pause. "It is if the Norns themselves have blessed our victory in this war."_

_"It is a monster," Frigga whispered harshly, "and I will not raise my son next to such a thing."_

_"Our son," Odin said gently. "It will be good for him to have a brother. You know how difficult it was for us to conceive him—"_

_"But we proved it was possible, and I would rather endure a hundred more miscarriages than to let that thing within a thousand miles of Thor," Frigga said venomously._

_"Such is the argument of nature versus nurture," Odin sighed. "We would raise him a prince of our realm, teach him to think as an Ás and teach him to be civilised. It is my hope that one day he will be an ambassador of our realm to Jötunnheimr, perhaps he could even rule it, bring Order to that Chaotic place. He and Thor would be brother kings; united in the cause of peace; Thor on the throne of Asgard, and this child on the throne of Jötunnheimr."_

_"What you are suggesting is madness," Frigga said. "It would be ridiculed; mocked and spat upon because of what it is, but yet you think it will obey your commands like the child you hope it will be to you?"_

_"His nature can be hidden from everyone, even from himself," Odin murmured. "He would grow up no differently than Thor and he will love and adore this realm and everyone who is a part of it, including you and our son. Do you not wish for another child, Frigga?"_

_"I wish for another child from you, from my womb," Frigga said sharply, "not this creature from a frozen realm full of vile life."_

_"He is innocent."_

_"But for how long? Frost Giants are savage, and it will only be so long before it will awaken to what its ancestors are so renowned for."_

_"Please."_

_Frigga had heard Odin's current tone only a handful of times, and it was those times that made her heart falter and clench._

_"I wish this for not only the peace of the next five thousand years this child will live for, but for the next five millions years afterward. And it will be because of your courage, my love. You shall be remembered forever as the Mother of Peace."_

_Peace was something Frigga held dear to her heart, and she swallowed as she looked down upon the still sleeping baby held in her husband's arms. She laid the back of her hand against its cheek, flinching at the warmth coming from its tiny body; had Odin changed that about it, too?_

_"He has powerful magic, a born skin changer," Odin offered in explanation. "I have added my own to it, allowing him to shift between this and his natural form."_

_"But you said it wouldn't know about its jötunn side."_

_"I have buried it deep within his mind and, should he stumble across it, he would turn away from it; I have protected it. Only myself or a powerful outside influence would be able to break the protection; an outside influence such as another jötunn if it were to lay a hand upon him in the intent to harm, or the Casket."_

_"Does it have a name?" Frigga asked sharply._

_Odin took up a tiny stone from within the blankets, turning it over in his fingers to reveal a score of Jötunn runes etched upon it in fine lettering. "Laufeyson," he read. He snorted. "To throw a child away without first giving him a name … how sad."_

_"You have a name for it?"_

_"_Him_, Frigga. And yes. His name shall be Loki. Loki Odinson."_

* * *

**My dog was the runt of the litter. Now he is an oversized ball of love; I'm not kidding, he's a giant Labrador.**

**Next chapter is a Loki chapter.**

**—_aylithe_**


	10. Chapter Nine: Conflict

**Thank you for all the birthday wishes! *rolls around* Oh God, this time next year I'll be an adult. What. How do you adult? Oh God oh God OH GOD WHAT I AM NOT READY FOR THIS SOMEONE HELP ME.**

***coughs* The new season of _Vikings_ is just so intense, man; all the blood and dead people. Whoaaaaaaaa. There's my inspiration right there.**

**Guest Review March 3rd: Babies are just too damn cute, that's why ... especially Loki babies. And I suppose having to pretend it's your kid as well (i.e. spending time with him to fool the masses) he rubbed off on her. And oh man, there are going to be problems for the rest of Loki's life for not only him, but for those around him because of what Odin's done.**

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**_PART ONE _**—**_ ONCE_**

**CHAPTER NINE**

* * *

**WHEN LOKI TRULY** WOKE FROM YET ANOTHER POOR DAY'S REST, he closed his eyes again almost immediately when his nose was assaulted with the sharp cold of Jötunnheimr. He hated waking up with that damn sharpness in his nose. It screamed to him of Jötunnheimr; cold, dead Jötunnheimr where it smelt nothing like the summer flowers of Asgard which would surely be in full bloom now.

But just the mere thought of Asgard brought waves of its own disgust. He tried to push them away just as fiercely as he pushed those of Jötunnheimr away.

All he wanted to think of was nothing. To float. To be free of everything; to drop what he held and run and run and run—

What the celebrations had provided was distraction; for their whole course he was doing _something_. But now that something was gone, it left an empty hole in his gut.

He pressed a hand to his forehead and concentrated on his breathing to stop his bottom lip from trembling and his chest from hurting with the quickness of his breath.

_Just what have I done to deserve this?_

Opening his eyes, he lifted his hand, turning it this way and that and examining the pink Ás flesh. Looked beneath the lie to the truth underneath. He twisted his fingers, calling forth a dagger which he held with a loose grip. He brought it up to the back of his hand, tracing the spaces he knew his familial scars lay. What had done that to him? Had he been put under the knife as a newborn and had the lines carved into him, as he had screamed and screamed in pain whilst others watched on? Was it done by a quick spell? To cut them into his flesh within the blink of an eye?

_Why?_

He didn't realise he was bleeding until the drop of blood fell square between his eyes. And once he did register the small bite of pain in his hand, he didn't pull the blade away. Some part of him wanted to press it further in until it touched bone and forced its way through until the blade pierced his palm, to look for his new distraction from the here and now through a new and cleaner pain compared to the dull, aching stab he felt every waking hour of his life and which dripped into his dreams upon long fingers of grasping shadows.

And so he pressed deeper; he pulled the knife down the back of his hand in a straight line, splitting his forearm into two. And he breathed in the pain, hissing with something close to satisfaction. Satisfaction was not something that ever had been in his nature.

For he did not know true satisfaction.

And he never would.

Such as vile a creature as him didn't deserve such a thing as satisfaction.

And he never could when he felt so weighed down in an endless bog and it became harder and harder to continue plodding through, to put one foot in front of the other and _keeping going_.

Norns, he wanted to die.

He lowered his hand so the tip of the blade once more found itself poised above his heart. It would be easy. Just one downward _stab_ and everything would be finished. No Laufey; no Fárbauti; no brothers; no potential mates.

No Asgard.

No nothing.

Just the road to Hel. A road which would be so much easier to tread.

And then the dagger fell away again. Loki snorted. When had he ever chosen the easy path?

Never.

And damn him if he were to start treading it now.

"Loki!"

Loki sat up and swiped away the blood on his forehead and pushed his injured arm out of sight as the door opened. He shifted at once, half expecting it to be Laufey – for he had been so immersed in his thoughts he had not had the time to comprehend anything beyond his name – but, to his relief, it was only Helblindi.

Helblindi stopped in the doorway. "Did I wake you?"

"No," Loki said.

"Good." Helblindi strode towards the bed and jumped up onto it to sit next to Loki. "What are you going to do now that there are no events planned for tonight?"

Loki shrugged. He breathed out with the barest of sounds a healing cantrip and the pain in his arm vanished. He felt its absence like a cold shoulder almost at once. He wanted that pain back.

"Well, we could go out of the castle," Helblindi suggested. "To Útgarða."

Loki snorted, his eyes flicking to the doors where he could see the two guards which followed him everywhere he went standing rigidly on the alert. For protection, he had been told, but he knew better: they were to keep him here. He had no doubt he could overpower them, but the only thing stopping him from doing just that was that damn oath he had given.

Helblindi looked annoyed as his suggestion was shot down so he said sullenly, "You think of something, then."

Loki didn't want to do anything – _Just let me lay here_. "Nothing." His tone was dull and dead.

"By Oblivion's embrace, you're boring," Helblindi muttered. "Come _on_! You must want to do _something_!" He jumped onto Loki's lap and jabbed a finger into his chest, a pout on his face. "Come on come on come _on_! Oh wait!" Helblindi stopped and looked at Loki with a slightly mischievous grin. "Can you show me how you use those knives of yours?"

A distraction. He summoned one of his throwing knives from the negative space –careful not the select the one still laced with his blood – and Helblindi made a grab for it. Loki held it away from him. "An Ás weapon like this, you mean?" he said.

"Yeah!"

"But why would you want such a weapon? Is it not alien?"

Helblindi crossed his arms. "I want a look, _líka_."

Loki passed it over and Helblindi took it up, turning it over and over in his fingers. He ran his thumb along one of the edges, hissing when it drew blood.

"Sharp."

"Neinn saurr."

Helblindi rolled his eyes. He continued playing with it as Loki watched him, scratching it along the bedpost and dislodging the ice upon it.

"Don't do that," Loki said, plucking the knife back from him and banishing it back to the negative space. "Do that and you'll blunt it."

"Is it really that easy to blunt those weapons?" Helblindi said, scratching his nose absently and sighing. "I like ice so much better; it doesn't blunt that easily and you can make whatever shape you want."

"Would it not blunt quicker?" Loki asked. "Uru is much denser than ice."

Now Helblindi looked confused. "Why would you have brittle ice?" He shaped a dagger in his hand and drove it as hard as he could against the bedpost. It didn't even chip.

Loki titled his head to the side in consideration. He'd managed to break jötunn ice before, something he had not thought much of, but his weapons were all enchanted by him in the forging process, woven with runes of strength and endurance; was it those that broke the ice?

"Fine, that's what we're doing tonight," Helblindi declared. "I'm showing you how to shape ice _properly_."

Loki sighed and stood from the bed.

Helblindi strode into the centre of the room and turned sharply on his heel, hands behind his back and his back straight. "A jötunn's ice is almost unbreakable," he started, "and so it's favoured for the material for our weapons. Besides, smelting metal is really dangerous for obvious reasons."

"What's with all the doors and armour, then?" Loki asked, gesturing to the door.

"The doors were traded millennia ago with other realms," Helblindi said, "and as for the armour; I merely said it was dangerous, not impossible. Our metalworkers are some of our realm's most prized people. We have seven here in Útgarða, a huge number."

"Seven is hardly big in terms of Asgard," Loki said. "You have the smith, and his apprentices who make up a smithy, and Asgard has dozens of smithies."

Helblindi rolled his eyes. "We're not Asgard." He found himself a perch on the edge of one of the chairs of the table. He grinned lopsidedly at Loki. "So, what can you do? Apart from ice lumps?"

Loki stared at his hands.

_His hands that were blue and marked and Norns he hated them and he wanted to tear his skin off if it meant he would never have to look at it again._

He breathed deeply and concentrated on _freezing_. A shapeless block encased his arm to the elbow. It looked nothing like the knife he had wanted to make. Whenever Loki had shaped ice before, such as when he had been fighting Angrboða, it had been pure natural instinct.

Loki broke the ice and tried again. The same thing happened and he broke that attempt as well. Ice lumps crunched under his feet as he shifted his weight. Finer weapons and shapes, he discovered, were not as easy to create as he had previously thought. It was the perfect distraction if he pushed aside the thought it was his natural magic doing this.

Helblindi watched with snorts of amusement at Loki's continuous efforts to shape something vaguely blade-like. He choked with laughter after Loki's eleventh failed attempt to make his knife. "No, no, no," he said, failing to entirely hide his grin as he jumped down from his perch and strolled over to Loki. "You've got to feel the ice; you've got to order it to do what you want."

"It's stiff to work with," Loki retorted.

"It's natural to work with," Helblindi shrugged. "It should be as natural as breathing." He held his hand out and, to Loki's annoyance, shaped a spiral of ice without as much as a hint of concentration. Loki looked sullenly back to the shapeless block on the floor by his feet which was supposed to be a long knife.

Loki grumbled under his breath in the Æsir tongue, "Frost Giant prick." He cocked his head to the side, held his palm out and took a deep breath. Curling his fingers, he let the ice advance slowly. He guided it carefully, building layer upon layer slowly for a narrow blade which tapered into a point. Many of the knives he had seen the jötnar produce in the battle he had participated in with Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three, were nothing more than crude icicles. He wanted a shape he was more familiar working with.

"You're getting better," Helblindi said, "but you need to do it faster."

"I'm new at this," Loki snapped back.

"I can see. Thank Oblivion you're doing this now instead of at hólmganga or something of the sort; we'd never live it down."

Loki ignored him as he finished his work and took the knife up in hand. He turned it over and over, weighing it in his palm and inspecting it from tip to tip. Once satisfied with what he felt and saw, he threw it. It whistled through the air and stuck, quivering, in the wall.

Helblindi scampered up to where it had embedded itself, grasped it in hand and tugged it out. "Whoa," was all he said.

There was a knock on the door and the two of them looked around as it opened.

"Princes," a servant said as he bowed deeply before them, "I apologise for my interruption."

"What do you want?" Loki said, a note of a growl in his voice.

"King Laufey has summoned you, my prince," the servant said.

Loki swore and dug his nails into his palms. "Why?" he snapped.

"Court proceedings, my prince."

Loki raised an eyebrow, surprised. _Why would he want me there?_

"You went to court when you were with the Æsir, didn't you?" Helblindi said, turning to him with a hint of concern on his face.

"Of course," Loki said.

"Well … that's good."

"You know," Loki said, flicking Helblindi in the ear so he yelped and swatted his hand away, "there's an expression the Æsir give to those who fuss over people as much as you fuss over me."

"I'm not fussing over you," Helblindi hissed, rubbing his ear.

"You are," Loki said, "Mother Hen."

"What's a hen?"

There was a spark of humour in Loki's eyes as he walked into the antechamber as Helblindi was escorted out by the servant. After scrubbing his face, he pulled on the scaled armour loincloth he had worn to the first night of the celebrations from one of his newly acquired chests and combed his fingers through his hair as he stood in front of the polished obsidian wall. He took a lock of it between his fingers and sighed heavily; it was getting long; he'd have to cut it soon. Pushing it back into place, he flipped open the box which held the bands for his horns and he fitted them on carefully, followed by his armlets and the wolf's head stone. Whatever he was, his appearance and personal grooming were still important.

Loki emerged into the hall and, without a word to the guards waiting for him, started to make his way to the throne room. Their steps, the soft clinking of chainmail links and their light breathing echoed along the corridors.

Loki took the longest route he could remember to the throne room, but it was all too soon they came to the huge doors. Loki stopped outside them, blinking rapidly as he swallowed his distaste for the situation.

"My lord?" one of the guards said.

"Open them," Loki commanded tersely.

He had to do as his unwanted king commanded.

The guards did so and the room beyond fell silent as Loki strode in. He clasped his hands behind his back as he walked to where Laufey and Fárbauti were seated at the head of the hall, giving stiff nods to them. He bent his knee to Laufey, showing the back of his neck. "King," he muttered. The hair there prickled with the force of Laufey's gaze upon him.

"Loki," Laufey said in acknowledgment, "you may rise." He gestured to the side of Fárbauti's throne.

Loki took his place, his eye catching the queen's before he moved his gaze away. His unwanted queen and mother and oh how he wished for just one _glance_ of Frigga—

No; no he didn't.

Helblindi was there and waiting for him. "Loki, what's a hen?" he said yet again as Loki stood next to him.

"A particularly terrifying creature to children going in search of their eggs," Loki said. He remembered very clearly one occasion where he had been perhaps Helblindi's age and had snuck away with Thor for the night to the outlying farms of Asgard. He had been bullied by the Thunderer into sneaking into one of the chicken coops on a farm to take eggs from there, and had come back with two very tiny ones and pecked and bloody fingers.

He looked around as his mind turned yet again to Asgard.

All in all, the room was smaller than he expected. Pillars stretched from the doors to the two thrones for the king and queen, covered in ice and crawling with urnes knots carved with careful hands. The thrones themselves were pieces of art. The backs were made of broken geometric designs of black metal and stone, fanning like peacock tails and dripping with long fingers of ice. Light filtered in from outside, reflected again and again by polished shards of ice set into the walls and ceiling to shed light on every corner of the room.

There were about seventy jötnar there, some of whom he recognised – Thjazi being one of them – and the most of them were faces he had seen in passing. Loki forced himself to remain relaxed; it would not do to appear weak before these jötnar.

_I am Trickster, Light Bringer, Breaker of Hearts; I am Loki._

He was pulled from his deadpan stare directed towards the wall to his left by Býleistr. He sauntered to the front, giving a quick bow of his head before taking his place by Laufey's side, feet spread apart, shoulders back, hands in fists by his sides and his horns held high. Loki found his own neck extending as he lifted his horns, too.

"Let us begin," Laufey started. "There is much to discuss, linking to the events over the past week and a half. Many of our grains and alcohols were used during these celebrations. Our stocks of both things have considerably dropped. Chieftain Baugi, your lands contain many fields which are vital to Útgarða's grain stocks. Are the reports of the harvests still accurate?"

"They are," a stocky jötunn said. "Our farmers will be able to pull in fifty thousand stone of grain this harvest."

Loki was having difficulty following the happenings. He only understood smatterings of what was being said, and he could see especially Býleistr knew of his struggle. From the corner of his eye, he could see the smirk of satisfaction crawling over his face; Loki resolved to punch him later. But to have merely fifty thousand stone of grain…. Loki supposed the low number made sense; these were hardly the best conditions to grow things such as grain, and it also explained why meat was a dominant part of the jötunn diet; his dagger-like teeth certainly spoke of an expected diet rich in meat.

Laufey nodded, elbows on the arms of his throne and his fingers laced under his chin. "The grain will be collected to be transported to the royal granaries for later sorting and dispersion as per our previous agreements and arrangements."

"Of course."

As the discussion turned to the account balances of the treasury, Loki's mind began to wander. It surprised him greatly of how similar the courts here were to those of Asgard. In all honesty, he hadn't thought the jötnar sophisticated enough to be worried about such things as royal treasuries and grain distribution. His legs were sore from standing still and he was constantly shifting his weight, half-listening to what was happening when he could understand what was being said.

One thing he noticed was that Fárbauti had just as much say as Laufey did over smaller things, such as decisions on when to distribute collected goods such as the grain, to bigger things such as the law and economics which she presided over with skill and a clear insight; it was a role which Frigga did not have in the Æsir courts. Loki had noticed the gender roles of the jötnar were not as defined as they were in Asgard, something which was different, but not in a bad way. Býleistr's opinion was also heard in many things, but Loki, and Helblindi, remained silent throughout the affairs; Loki because he did not have enough of an understanding of the jötnar laws and Helblindi because he was still too young to fully understand what was happening in many of the discussions.

But Loki was not unobservant. Although only half of his attention was on what was happening, the information he heard he stored away to be mulled and picked over later. The names and faces of the nobles that had introduced themselves to him over the course of the celebrations began to have more dimensions to them. Angrboða had told him the jötnar social system was made from smaller denominations under the rule of Laufey, not unlike the lords and jarls of Asgard.

Thjazi, as Laufey's most trusted general, handled many of the smaller affairs for the king and queen. He heard cases and disputes on the days court was not held, presided over the developments of the armies of Jötunnheimr and was a chief in law and justice.

"If you cannot settle this dispute between the two of you for the ownership of this stretch of land," he snarled at two jarls who had brought their case forward to the throne.

"Hólmganga," one said to the other. "Winner takes all."

The other bared his teeth. "Accepted." It was a grim acceptance.

As the time stretched by, Loki found himself playing with the light from the illuminating ice, bending it to flash and shine in eyes and was rewarded with shakings of heads and growls of annoyance to jötnar actively moving around the room to find better positions to stand in to avoid the persistent reflections. Loki was shot a look by Laufey after this had happened a few times and he reluctantly ended his spell.

But nothing of interest happened until the very end of the court session.

He was the son of a minor jarl, a tall jötunn who was all muscle and brawn that had done nothing but stare intently at Loki for the past two and a half hours. Loki had tried to shine light in his face, but the jötunn merely put a hand to his brow to shade his eyes. Loki had huffed in annoyance and gone to his next victim. As the court was called for dismissal, the jötunn stood and walked resolutely to the foot of the throne, standing ridged as every eye fell upon him. The jötunn held his palm out and a spike of ice formed in his hand. Taking it up, he threw it just shy of Loki's toes. It sunk into the ground and the whole court fell quiet.

"Loki Laufeyson," the jötunn said, "I challenge you to hólmganga."

Loki lifted his head, his neck stiff and protesting; he flexed his fingers at the same moment. "State your reasons."

"You must prove yourself to me your right to wear the horns of kings. I have heard stories of what transpired after the days were you given here by Asgard and how you were reduced to begging for food after only eighteen days."

Loki bristled with anger and padded down the stairs. A growl rumbled in his throat as he beared down on the jötunn, his face coming within a foot of his. He was young, Loki thought, and arrogant.

His lip curled and his teeth flashed. "I accept your challenge of hólmganga. And I will fight you at dawn."

* * *

#

* * *

**THE** TURNOUT TO the hólmganga made Loki grimace in despair. The arena was a huge circular structure, a colosseum of black rock crowned with spikes of ice which was broken and battered from both the war and time. Loki had expected maybe a hundred jötnar or so to show, but the number was closer to two thousand. They wanted to see their prince fight; they wanted to assert his strength. Folding his expression into one of neutral interest, he strode forward through the tunnel. He wore leather armour, leather bracers and greaves and his ringmail backed loincloth. The gold bands from his horns had also been slid off carefully. His hair was brushed from his face and lay flat against his skull, held down by a limewater solution which made it stiff and inflexible. His claws had been sharpened on both his hands and his feet.

The crowd screamed and roared from their raised stands as he came into the cool light of Jötunnheimr's twin moons and it took all his effort not to shudder. His eyes involuntary slid to the royal stands, to where Laufey, Fárbauti, Býleistr and Helblindi sat back in shadow; he could only see the outlines of the horns of Laufey and Býleistr, along with the red glint of four sets of eyes.

The arena floor was a hundred paces in diameter, a place where gladiatorial battles from ages past would have been fought once. The ground was a smooth ice field, cleared of snow and debris.

The other jötunn walked through the tunnel on the opposite side of the arena, pushing his hair from his eyes and snarling quietly in Loki's direction. Loki stared back at him as coldly as he could, head held high and flexing his fingers. A rumbling growl awoke in his throat; that was all he was, now: animalistic. It hadn't escaped his notice how often he did it when threatening someone. He was like the wolf on the stone he now usually wore around his neck.

"Son and Daughters of the Ice!" Thjazi proclaimed. He stood in a box opposite the royal stands and his projected voice echoed throughout the arena. "This hólmganga between his royal majesty Loki Laufeyson, second born to King Laufey Nálson of Jötunnheimr and Herkir Gangrson, fourth born to Gangr Kolason has been recognised by both parties. The official rules apply to this hólmganga and have not been subjected to change. Speak now if there are any objections."

No one stirred, so Thjazi released a cry of "Vega!" Fight!

Herkir charged, bellowing and swung a fist at Loki who stepped away with a graceful movement. There were stirrings of discontent from the crowd as Herkir stumbled to a halt, looking at Loki with a glint in his eye.

"Coward! You are weak-hearted to shy from my blow!"

Loki said nothing.

Herkir came at him again, and again, Loki moved away. The crowd hissed in anger, but Loki did his best to block them from his mind. He wanted Herkir to tire, and then he would be easier to defeat. Whatever the jötnar thought, Loki was more interested in his want for self-preservation.

Twice more Herkir swung at him, and when Loki moved behind him with a quick sidestep, he struck. His arm shot out for Herkir's hair and he gripped it tightly. He wrenched the jötunn back, planting a knee into the small of his back before throwing him across the area with a roar. The jötunn fell heavily, rolling at the wall's base and, to Loki's annoyance, stood up. His eyes were watering in pain and he spat a glob of blood from his mouth; he'd bitten his tongue.

"Finally, a reaction," he said.

Loki continued to say nothing. He was itching to take up one of his weapons from the negative space and plunge it into the side of the jötunn's neck, but he didn't dare do it; the knowledge Laufey was watching held him back. He moved into a fighting stance, low to the ground with his feet spread and fists in front of his face. "Come get me, _þú moli af saurr_."

You piece of shit.

And those were the magic words.

The jötunn charged and, just as Loki had suspected he would, aimed a swipe at him. Loki sidestepped, grabbed his arm as it came past and twisted his body around, bringing his other elbow in front of him which he rammed into the jötunn's nose. Herkir brought his arm around and his blow caught Loki across the face. Loki's head snapped back and his teeth clacked together painfully. He snarled and kneed the jötunn in the stomach. He brought his fist up in a skyward strike, catching Herkir under the jaw and he hooked his leg around the knee and pulled his feet out from under him. Herkir landed on the ground heavily, the air forced from his lungs in an _oomph!_

"Veita," Loki said. Yield. He crouched low, baring his teeth as he pressed his claws into the jötunn's throat.

But Herkir still has a spark of defiance left in him. He rammed his knee into the back of Loki's thigh and Loki grunted in pain. The offset of balance allowed the jötunn to get out from under him and Loki turned his fall into a roll and so he too was back on his feet. But before he managed to straighten up, the jötunn was onto him again. He swiped at the prince and his claws caught Loki on the left shoulder. The flesh was torn underneath the sharp claws, just shy of where Angrboða had injured him only days ago and Loki snarled in pain. Whilst he was preoccupied, Herkir made a grab for one of his horns. Loki, used to such a move from his Ás helm, twisted away, pivoting on his heel and his momentum allowed him to fully turn and deliver a well-aimed slash at Herkir's face. Skin and muscle tore under his fingers, his claws shredding the flesh from his right cheek, over his jaw and down his neck. But Loki wasn't finished with him. He whirled around and jabbed the jötunn in the throat.

It was a drill he had practiced hundreds of times over the decades and one he had perfected very quickly. Herkir's arm shot up to protect the injured area, something which was a subconscious reflex, but Loki's hand caught the jötunn's wrist before he had even the chance to get close to his throat. Pivoting on his heel, Loki brought the arm over his shoulder so the elbow rested there and he jerked the wrist downward to bring the back of his hand to his heart. The elbow broke with a sickening _crack!_, but Loki did not stop there. He pulled the arm over his head and threw the jötunn around his body onto the ground. His head smashed into the rock floor beneath them.

Herkir roared in pain, but the crowd shrieked and shouted and bellowed with approval. Herkir struggled to get back to his feet, but Loki kicked him under the jaw with his shin, hissing at the jötunn's crumpled form as he stalked forwards. He shoved his foot into his throat, pressing down non-too lightly. Herkir choked.

Loki, now panting lightly, said once again, "Veita."

"Veita," the jötunn repeated, his muscles unwinding and he slumped, defeated, onto the ground. His fang-like teeth were red with blood.

"Jafnmenni," Thjazi announced. "The victory goes to Loki Laufeyson."

Loki kept his eyes resolutely on Herkir as he backed away, half expecting him to rise again, but the jötunn remained slumped, covered in blood and a tremor wracked his frame. Loki could feel Herkir's blood under his claws, rolling in drips from them and onto the ice where it splashed. His own blood trailed down his arm, the wound a dull pain through the adrenaline rushing through his veins. He breathed in deeply, turned on his heel and marched from the arena, paying no heed to the bellows and yells of the jötnar.

* * *

#

* * *

**"YOU** JUST BROKE his arm like it was the easiest thing in the worlds!" Helblindi gabbled. "It took you something like two seconds to do it!"

"I broke his elbow," Loki corrected. He supressed a wince as the jötunn treating his injury pushed more salve into the flesh. It was shallow, he had been told, but the wounds were wide; they would heal quickly, but they would leave scars.

"Can you teach me how to do that?" Helblindi said, tugging on Loki's fingers insistently. "Please please _please_?"

Loki shrugged. He bit back a yelp as the jötunn pressed particularly hard on the wound and he twisted away, the barest of hisses escaping from between his teeth.

"Please, my lord, you must be still for just a little more—"

"Just hurry up."

The jötunn dipped her head obediently and took up a roll of bandages woven from some sort of fibre; the hair of some Jötunnheimr beast? She wrapped his arm and, once the bandage was in place, picked up a stone bowl full of some sort of opaque paste. It was freezing, even to his jötunn flesh, but it took away the pain from the wound as she slathered it over the bandages. They became stiff almost instantly, sticking the bandages to each other. When she pulled away, Loki prodded at it. It wasn't cold, he realised, it was numbing. Numbing glue.

And it did not escape his notice as to how much more effective it was than any sort of Æsir medicine had had on him.

"Will you do it?"

"What?" Loki said, turning to look at Helblindi.

"Challenge Býleistr," Helblindi said quietly. "For the right to be the crown prince."

"No," Loki said, swallowing bitterly and turning his gaze away from the jötunn. "I don't want the throne. Never."

"But why?" Helblindi exclaimed. "You've proved to Útgarða your strength, so why not challenge him?"

"Because I don't want the throne!" Loki howled, rounding on him and his nostrils flaring. His blood was still boiling as he stood, a vein in his neck jumping as he towered above Helblindi who shrunk away. "Why would I want to rule this Norns-forsaken realm?! I am not of it."

"But—"

"I am not of Jötunnheimr," Loki said, biting back his anger as he slumped against the wall. He bit his lip and kneaded his knuckles into his forehead, fighting against the crushing wave of depression threatening to break over him.

_I will not be their king._

Helblindi seemed to have guessed his thoughts for he strode up to Loki and grabbed onto both of his horns with his hands. "These speak of who you are," he said, "and they are something many jötnar would kill for. Do not throw away what you've been given, brother."

"_Helblindi_."

Helblindi let Loki's horns go at his threatening tone, backing away and looking as if he had only just then realised what he had done. "Brother, I—"

Loki's sharp gaze silenced him. "Never touch my horns like that again," he said lowly.

The door opened and Loki looked away as the rest of the royal house strode in. Býleistr hovered by the door, arms crossed and glaring at Loki's turned back. He flinched when he felt Fárbauti run her hands through his hair and he had to grip his wrist tightly to keep himself from slapping her hand away. But she didn't miss the sudden twitch that ran through his body in reaction to her touch.

"You fought well," she said.

"As is expected of me politically," Loki replied tersely. "It was nothing more than that."

"Smart move, boy," Laufey said. "Býleistr, take your brother back to the castle."

"Faðir—" Helblindi started.

"Listen to your sire, Helblindi," Fárbauti said.

Helblindi snorted and crossed to the door. Býleistr left with him and the door closed behind the princes, leaving the three of them standing in silence.

Loki felt cornered. "What?" he said finally. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," Fárbauti said. "You fought well and broke no rules; we could not have asked more of you. But we need to talk." Fárbauti took Loki's hand in hers and her fingers went to the back of his hand, flitting over the thin scar which was the only reminder of what he had done to himself earlier. There was a flash of sorrow in her eyes, one he barely saw before it was gone again. "About your fighting style."

"Too Ás for your liking?" Loki spat.

"For others," Fárbauti said forcibly. "You are making enemies in the court, jötnar who would like nothing better than to break your horns and kill you because of who you are and the threat you pose."

There was no need for her to tell him what threat he presented: the threat of Asgard. Everyone who had access to the courts and the castles had seen or heard in some form and manner of his actions; actions which still rung of loyalty to the golden realm, no matter his oaths of loyalty to Laufey. His heart was still loyal to Asgard.

At least, that was what they assumed. Loki's loyalty nowadays was only to himself.

"I think Asgard has made it abundantly clear they have no want of me," Loki said. But like Hel that would matter.

"You need to be smart about this," Fárbauti said somewhat impatiently. "Your sire and I would not have you taken away from us so soon after you returned to us because of your pride. This is about survival."

"I am well aware of the conspiracies and corruptions that are rife within politics," snapped Loki, "and I was even more aware of the plots carried out by the people of the courts in Asgard. I make it my business to know what is happening in a place where it would be so easy to slip daggers between ribs. I am not a child."

"You look like a child to me," Laufey said suddenly. "Your house lines are still light and your hide still soft. You will not be fully mature for at least another four hundred years."

Loki grit his teeth. His thousandth name-day had gone by a half-century ago; of course he was mature!

"Býleistr is still not fully mature," Fárbauti said, sensing his displeasure. "He will be soon, but he has not reached it yet."

"I don't give two shits about him!" Loki exclaimed. "And neither do I care about you!" He jerked his hand away and stood, breathing heavily and he tried to barge past the two of them, but Laufey stopped him. He grabbed his arm and Loki tried to pull away, but Laufey's grip only tightened. Loki winched in pain.

"And we will present to you another warning," Laufey breathed. "If you continue to act as you are, with the disrespect towards not only myself, but to your brother and dam, then I will impose on you more exacting punishments."

"And just what would that be?" Loki hissed, refusing to look at him.

Laufey's hand moved to the back of his neck and he pressed into the skin there. A blinding pain exploded there and Loki could not help but let out a high screech. He was driven to a knee, writhing and buckling under Laufey's hand, but the jötunn held him firmly. He had been taught about pressure points in his studies, had his pressed upon, but this, this was something else entirely, perhaps something unique to jötunn biology, and Norns it was a burning agony.

"Let him up!" That was Fárbauti's voice, and she sounded furious. "My mate you will let our son up at this instant!"

"He must learn," Laufey replied, but he relinquished his hold on Loki.

Loki fell to the floor, still whimpering in pain as his hands flew to the base of his skull and pressing down on the pain in an attempt to ease it.

_What _was_ that?_

"Through pain?" Fárbauti demanded. "That was too much."

"He—must—_learn_," Laufey said yet again, "and if pain is the best teacher, then so be it."

Loki stilled, trembling with pain as he eased himself upright. Hate was blazing in his gut. He jumped at Laufey's back, but the king turned on him, caught his arm and slammed Loki to the floor before he could even comprehend what was happening. Loki kicked at the king, but he only moved to Loki's side where he could not reach him.

"As strong as you may be," Laufey breathed, "I am stronger, and do not forget it."

Loki glared at the king as intensely as he could before he dropped his head, horns clacking on the ice. "Yes … sire."

* * *

**So, our first look at an official holmganga! I know absolutely nothing about hand-to-hand; the arm-breaking thing was copied from a YouTube tutorial. There will be more of these in the future, and many of them Sigyn centric. Sigyn will be a much more dominant character as the story progresses *Logyn feels are ruining my life*.**

**And bad news for Loki lovers, the next chapter is a Thor chapter. I love Thor, so deal with it.**

**—_aylithe_**


	11. Chapter Ten: The Wastes of Jötunnheimr

**I'm sorry it's taken so long to update. I have my mid-course exams in a couple of weeks and well, they're the priority at the moment, not to mention I've been working on _The Ragnarok War_ because I haven't updated it for coming up three months. So short chapter, eeeeeeeeeh~**

**Guest Review 7th March:**** Well, I put that kenning in because I'd assume Loki's romantic life hasn't been without scandal in Asgard, and also because with my Norse Myth retellings I'm currently writing, that is one of his kennings and I kinda … borrowed it?**

**I don't think he'll approve, but he won't stop it because I just honestly think he'd be relieved Loki is doing something other than moping.**

**Having a new mother sprung upon you like that isn't easy because it's so hard to change your views on a person you have cried out 'mother' to your entire life and then expecting to pin these feelings on another woman you barely know? Not easy in the slightest. Loki's wounds are still too fresh.**

**WHAT TIME IS IT? IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT'S _THOR TIME_!**

* * *

**_PART ONE _**—**_ ONCE_**

**CHAPTER TEN**

* * *

**THOR DIDN'T KNOW **WHO WAS MORE SURPRISED AT THEIR SUDDEN ARRIVAL ON JÖTUNNHEIMR: he and his companions or the three jötunns who had been leaning idly against the clump of rocks the Æsir had stumbled from. Roars rent the air as they shaped ice weapons on their arms, but the Warriors Three and Sif leapt from where they had fallen to dispatch the jötunns.

"Leave one!"

Two were killed neatly; the third the warriors hounded until his back was pressed against the rocks. His drew his lip back to expose his teeth, his shoulders bristling with spikes of ice as he crouched low, ready to spring. Sif was the brave one who darted forward; the jötunn swiped at her, but she ducked nimbly under his reach and slashed at his arm with a cry. Half of his forearm went flying and he fell to his knees, roaring in agony as Sif pulled his jaw back and slid her sword underneath it.

"Now," Thor said, holding Mjøllnir's handle tightly as he advanced on the jötunn, "my brother, where is he?" The maps of Jötunnheimr that were in Asgard were millennia old and most probably out of date, but had been stuffed into their bags anyway. And with the monotonous landscape that stretched for kilometres and kilometres in each direction, they would have been hard-pressed to find a starting point. And they needed this jötunn to provide it.

"Brother?" the giant wheezed. "My prince is no brother of yours."

"He is not your prince!" Thor growled. Hefting the hammer, he demanded once more, "Where is my brother, Prince Loki Odinson of Asgard?!"

The jötunn merely laughed. "I am not a traitor to the crown."

"You will tell me now and you will die a clean death."

The jötunn closed his eyes languidly. "Þú tala griðungrsaurr, forað."

Sif dug the sword into the jötunn's jaw. "Where is Prince Loki?" she hissed. "Where?!"

"With his people, where he belongs."

Sif looked to Thor and stabbed the jötunn in the shoulder. The thing roared and buckled, but Sif held on grimly. "Tell us!"

"Thor." Hogun was looking at the rocks once more.

Thor whirled around, expecting to find a half dozen jötnar charging them, but he saw only three beasts, strange, lithe looking creatures with thick white manes and powerful legs equipped with claw-tipped feet that looked good for grabbing. Upon their backs were leather saddles. They were tethered by their tusks to a stone post.

Thor trudged over to Hogun and hissed, "Yes?"

"These beasts will return to their homes if we set them loose," Hogun muttered, "and that will lead us to civilisation. Perhaps, if we are lucky, they are from the same place where the Bifröst site is; where Laufey, and therefore Loki, are."

Thor nodded, sounding the logic out. "And if not? If we set them free and they roam?"

"We find more jötunns to ask," Volstagg said simply. "This one will bleed out before he tells us anything. Let us be done with him and try Hogun's plan."

Thor said back to Sif, "Kill him."

Sif didn't hesitate. She whipped her sword back, slashing the jötunn's throat and the monster died without so much as a whisper.

Fandral walked over, grinning broadly. "Well, what a wonderful start," he said, cleaning the bright red blood from his sword with a handful of snow and a cheery smile. "My wound feels better already."

"I thought it had already healed," Sif said as she walked over to the group, eyebrow raised in scepticism.

"It would have sounded strange if I had said 'My scar feels better already', wouldn't of it?"

"Be quiet," Thor ordered. "We do not know if more jötunns are around."

"I think those were the only three; if there were more, there would be more mounts," Hogun reasoned.

Thor's shoulders were still tensed as he broke away from the group. He went over to their fallen packs, looking around all the while in case one of the monsters were to jump at him from the rocks, and opened his bag, pulling out a thick woollen cloak lined with wolf fur which he threw around his shoulders. He hooked the clasps into place with steadily numbing fingers. He had left his red cape in Asgard, as detection by the jötunns was the last thing the group needed. He exchanged his heavy boots for ones lined with rabbit fur and coated with linseed oil for waterproofing. His hair he left loose, willing to trade its offered warmth to his ears and the back of his neck for brushing it from his mouth and eyes.

The others joined him. Sif rammed her sword into the snow and took out her cloak, pulling the hood up to shade her eyes and keep her head warm. She too exchanged her boots for thicker ones, the treads of which were slightly spiked to offer better grip on the ice.

Thor finished dressing as he wrapped a scarf around his neck and lastly pulled out a snow visor, something that had been hardly used and he tied it around his head. Instantly, the harsh light was easier on his eyes, even if his field of vision was narrowed.

He looked to the beasts. They were snuffling and snarling at the scent of spilt jötunn blood and the Æsir, growling wildly as Thor and Volstagg crossed to them. Thor lifted Mjøllnir and the uru shone with a subtle electrical charge. The animals bore their teeth, but backed away as he advanced. Hogun approached the beasts slowly, and they snapped at him.

Thor raised Mjøllnir the creatures turned their attentions back to him, eyeing him and the hammer flatly. "Loose them," he ordered.

Hogun swiftly cut the lines and Thor swung at them in warning. All three of them jumped at him now they were loose. Mjøllnir cracked into the side of one's head and it let out a high screech of pain, slinking away and whining. The other two were hesitant, the tips of their tails flicking back and forth.

"Go!" Thor roared at them. "Get out of here!"

The injured one bolted west, and the other two followed after a few seconds hesitation.

"West it is, then," Volstagg said.

"So it seems," Thor agreed. "Let us first eat, and then we will head off."

They dined on cold meats and spiced mead, eating little to preserve their supply before they hoisted their packs, strapped on their snow shoes and trudged off in the opposite direction to the sun; Thor was glad it was at their backs. Mjøllnir never left his hand as they walked, even as the group became more relaxed as the hours began to stretch by without so much as a bird in sight.

"It's just wrong," Sif muttered to Thor who had sped up to walk with him at the front of the group. "We have seen _nothing_."

Thor cursed as one of the straps tying his snow shoe to his foot slipped and loosened. He ducked down and tied it again, replying at the same moment, "Be grateful we have seen nothing yet; fighting causes a ruckus and it delays. Besides, if things go wrong, there will be plenty of time to fight then." He straightened up, readjusted his pack and swept loose strands of hair from his forehead. "Loki is more important to me than a petty scrap between us and monsters. You all are." He looked back to his companions.

Despite the thickness of their furs and cloaks, all of which were stitched and woven through with _Kaun_ runes for warmth, the cold was sapping at their bones. To Thor, the development wasn't surprising; they had been walking for hours, and the sun was once again descending.

"We should stop for tonight," Thor declared. "It'll take us a fair few hours to build a snow cave, and I have no want of doing so in the dark. Are we in agreeance?"

"I think it's an excellent idea," Volstagg said, dropping his pack from his shoulder and stretching his back and arms. "If we hurry, then we can get the job done in two and a half hours. If the realm is this cold during the day, I can only shudder to think at what temperatures it would drop to without the sun."

"Yes," Sif said. Once more driving her sword into the snow point first, she walked a few paces away, looking at the surrounding area to assess any irregularities within the flat plain before tracing a wide circle with her foot. Then they all began to pile in to help build the cave.

Firstly, they piled up a mound of snow which came up to Thor's waist, a job which took close to an hour but was lightened by jokes and stories as well as plans about what they would do once they had Loki back within their folds.

"Niðavellir is all good," Fandral was saying, pushing snow onto the pile and wiping his hands, "but that would take only two days at the most to inspect the dwarf forges. Perhaps we should start with something that boils the blood a bit more. Perhaps we should do battle with Jormunganðr upon our return to Midgardr; we would not have lied, then!"

Thor grinned as he smoothed the top of the mound, packing down the snow before stepping back and observing his work. Now that the mound was sufficiently big enough, they would have to wait for the snow to harden before they could dare try to dig underneath in order to minimise the chance of collapse. The sun was just kissing the horizon when they began to dig out the snow. The dug down, adding the excess snow they hauled out to the roof of the mound. After another hour of work, they had a space which stretched three metres back, plenty enough room for all five of them and their six packs. Some of the snow they made into low benches on the sides of the cave to sleep on and worked on smoothing the underside of the roof to minimise the risk of drips. Smoothing the floor, they laid furs down as Sif cut a ventilation hole into the roof.

"Cozy!" Volstagg pronounced as they crawled in. "Dinner, lady and gentlemen?"

"Here," Fandral said, pulling out an aldrnari stone twice the width of his hand from the extra pack. A mere touch woke the slumbering witchfire and it burst forth from the stone, kingfisher blue and smokeless. They huddled together as Volstagg took out a small, cast-iron pot with a matching stand and spit. Settling it over the fire, they put handfuls of snow in the pot and started to talk amongst themselves as they waited for it to melt.

"No no," Fandral said, shaking his head and grinning widely, "you misunderstand me. The bet was I wouldn't be able to seduce just _one_ of them."

"I wouldn't exactly call four beers to the face a successful seduction," Thor said.

"Well," Fandral said, shifting his weight on the bench to better use his hands, "I had at least two of them offering to give me an exchange of clothes since mine were soaked."

"And then pray tell us what happened next," Sif said flatly. She had never been one for tales of Fandral's wenching.

"They took me up the stairs," Fandral continued, "and they told me to wait for them in the bedroom. By that time I was thinking, 'Well, we all know where this is going next', so I sat myself on the bed and waited for another twenty or thirty minutes. But they did come back," he said quickly, catching the glance Volstagg had thrown to Hogun. "And they did have with them a change of clothes. There were just … more skirts than I was expecting. But mine were sopping, and I was very drunk."

"You didn't," Volstagg said.

"I was drunk," Fandral said in his defence. "And the sex was quite fantastic."

But Thor, Sif and Volstagg were howling, and even Hogun cracked a smile. "Ergi!" Sif shouted. "Now I understand why the Lady Freyja called by that insult!"

"I only tell you now because you cannot tell anyone else out here in the wastelands; we need all the warmth we get, both from laughing and from the heat of embarrassment," Fandral said, "and by the time we get back to Asgard, we will all be too drunk with elation at having Loki back you would have all forgotten about it by then."

"That is a story I will not be forgetting in a hurry," Sif said. "Oh, the water's melted."

Their meal was not glamorous; merely a lump of salt, a couple of handfuls of diced beef along with some crushed herbs and stock. They eat from the pot, passing it and the spoon around along with a skin a wine. It warmed them immensely, and Thor found himself, for the first time in the two months that Loki had been taken, happy. It was only him and his closest friends upon a nefariously dangerous mission, but even so, Loki's absence was a dark hole within their company, and Thor was determined to once again fill it.

* * *

#

* * *

**"I** HAVE NOT seen you laugh as you have tonight for a long time," Sif said.

Thor rolled over to look at her. The others were all fast asleep, their light snores previously being the only sounds breaking the silence. Thor hadn't been asleep; he couldn't sleep. "Such is the effect of having such merry company," Thor said quietly.

"I think it is something more than that."

Thor said up and gestured for Sif to come over. She transversed the tiny area quickly and sat next to Thor, who threw his furs around her shoulders. "Your hands are cold," Thor noted, taking them up between his own.

Sif smiled slightly. "Yours are, too."

"It is a shame we only bought one aldrnari stone with us," Thor mused. The witchfire was burning lowly in the centre of the snow cave, bathing them with kingfisher light.

"Mmm." Sif pulled closer to Thor and he put an arm around her, rubbing her upper arm fiercely in an attempt to warm her. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"Everything I can do to help," Thor said. "It is, after all, my fau—"

"No," Sif said sharply. "Thor, if I hear you say that one more time, then so help me I will give you a black eye that will be upon you until Ragnarók. It is _all_ our faults; none of us tried to stop you from coming to Jötunnheimr in the first place, and look at where our bullheadedness has led us."

"Sif—"

"Enough." Thor wished to argue further, but Sif continued, "You told me you were grateful for my companionship over these past two months, and it would be a poor thing to say to me when I see you spiralling into this hole of misery, would it not?"

"I … I suppose."

Sif snorted. "'Suppose' … suppose my foot."

"Be careful with your words, Lady Sif," Thor said, but there was a lightness to his voice which disbanded the threat of his words. "I am grateful, but always, the question of 'what if' tortures my mind every second of everyday: what if Laufey had not seen Loki's change? What if he hadn't been grabbed? What if I had listened to him?" Thor brought his hand up to the back of Sif's neck, a gesture he recently had only ever shared with Loki, and so it was with some sort of dim surprise he found himself doing the same thing here and now. The unbidden thought of Sif's face during Loki's send-off flashed through his mind, and the thought of her beauty that had accompanied it.

Sif had gone very still when he rested his hand at her neck. Her eyes were fixed on his.

"Thank you," Thor said quietly.

The sound of voices outside pulled the two of them apart; they jumped to their feet, hunched by the low ceiling and their hands creeping to their weapons. Neither of them moved for a second, listening intently. More talking drifted into the cave and Thor kicked Fandral awake.

"What?" he grunted loudly, rolling over to look irritably up at his friend.

Thor jabbed a finger to his lips and the man fell silent at once. He poked Volstagg awake whilst Sif woke Hogun and they crept to their feet, weapons sliding into hand as they inched towards the entrance they had blocked with their packs. Volstagg smothered the aldrnari stone as Thor pulled the top pack off the pile, peering out into the night. A group of eight jötunns, along with those beasts of theirs, were walking through the snow a mere two hundred metres away.

"Damn," Volstagg said, supressing a yawn as he fit himself next to Thor. "Do the buggers ever sleep?"

"Be silent," Thor hissed. He twirled Mjøllnir in his grip, watching intently as the jötunns moved off. He could hear snatches of conversation in the Jötunn tongue, none of which he could understand, but from the tone of their voices, he could guess they were angry. "It seems those animals of theirs returned to their homestead," Thor muttered. "See their ice spears? They're hunting."

"This is perfect," Sif said. "All we need to do is wait from them to pass by, and then continue on our way by following their tracks; we now know for sure which way to go."

"At night? That's suicide," Volstagg spluttered. "Do you have any idea how cold it is?"

"And not to mention that if these are the first jötunns and animals we have seen, wouldn't it suggest they are night dwelling creatures?" Hogun interjected.

Fandral groaned. "Brilliant. So we are to sit here like rabbits and wait to get captured?"

"Of course not," Thor snapped. "We kill them."

"Kill them?" Volstagg spluttered.

"Aye. It is vital that we go as unnoticed as possible. After all, dead men tell no tales."

"Yes," Sif agreed. "They will find our tracks, unless the Norns as so willing as to let it snow right now. We must silence them."

Thor nodded.

"We must kill them, Volstagg," Hogun said. "If we do not now, then we will not be sure that if they find our tracks, all of them will come after us; it would be much more sensible to send a runner back."

Thor swore. "By the Norns I hate the snow." Pulling his cloak on, Thor kicked the packs out of the way and swung Mjøllnir. The hammer pulled him away and he flew towards the jötunns at a breakneck pace, roaring a challenge. And within seconds, he was on them.

They whirled around as he smashed into the first of their company, a muscular thing with piggy little eyes and fang-like teeth. He was dead before he could fully turn around. Thor landed on the ice heavily, Mjøllnir still swinging in his grip. The jötunns bellowed, summoning ice weapons to their forearms, but Thor paid no attention to their snarls.

"Ás!" one of them roared.

Thor hit him next, Mjøllnir crashing into his knee and crippling him at once. Before he could finish the giant off, however, he was punched in the shoulder by one of the others and was tossed away. Thor landed on his feet, skidding on the snow and he shook his hair from his eyes, a grin on his face. "Ás _prince_," he corrected. He swung Mjøllnir in a circle, the hammer blurring at his side as he brought it in front of him and into three jötunns as they charged him as one. The snow was bloody in an instant, the jötunn blood freezing him where it landed on his bare arms and Thor wiped it off irritably.

He ducked under a swipe and smashed Mjøllnir into the offending jötunn's side. Ribs crunched under the hammer's head and Thor felt a shiver of savage delight rush through him. His hatred was a blazing fire in his heart. Savages; that was all they were; beasts that had not the right to be called a part of the realms.

The Warriors Three and Sif came into the fray at that moment, slaughtering the animals as Thor killed the remaining jötunns ruthlessly. Thor aimed for the last, but he froze in surprise when it was a woman he was faced with. The hesitation allowed her to crash into him, her fist connecting with his jaw and Thor fell back. She circled him and Thor, after a second, leapt for her. The jötunn kicked at him, and Thor avoided her foot and jumped for her, locking his elbow around her neck. He brought her down with an almighty crash upon the ice and levelled Mjøllnir at her, centimetres above her chest so, if he should drop it, it would break her ribs.

"I don't believe in killing women—" Thor started.

She spat at him, "Kill me already, and damn your gender prejudices, Asgardian."

Thor slapped her. "That's _Ás_, creature."

She leered at him. "I shall call you as I please."

Thor grabbed her throat. "Where is my brother?"

"My prince is of no relation to you," she snapped.

"Do not try my patience," Thor warned her.

"Give me one reason not to. You just said you had no wish to kill me. I hear you Æsir men are fond of raping your women; is that what you will do, because if you so much as try, you will be left without your beloved manhood, believe me."

"Why in the realms would I want to do such a vile thing with you?"

She smiled viciously. "Then we have an agreement."

"One more time: where is my brother?"

"Where he belongs: with his blood. You will never be reunited with him; it is too late, too many bonds have been broken, too many bridges burnt as you Æsir are fond of saying."

Thor dropped Mjøllnir and the jötunn screamed as her ribs audibly cracked. Her back arched, her legs flailing.

"As I said, do not try my patience."

"I can and I will," she gasped. She grabbed Mjøllnir's handle and tried to shift it from her chest, but it didn't budge.

"A direction; give me a direction."

"I refuse. Kill me already." A broken whine came from her throat and her head fell back. She shuddered.

"Tell me, and I will kill you."

"No, no. I won't; damn you, Asgardian."

Thor twisted the hammer and she screamed again. "One."

"No—"

"Two."

"Stop."

"Three—"

"West!" she spat.

Thor paused. "The truth?"

She said nothing. Thor grasped the hammer, but the jötunn's eyes rolled back and she stilled, her lungs and heart crushed. Thor growled in annoyance and took Mjøllnir up from the corpse. The others were going through the saddlebags of the beasts, all of whom lay either dead or dying. Furs and food that looked edible to them were put aside and everything else discarded; it held no use to them.

"West," Thor grunted, joining them in their task.

"And can your source be trusted?" Sif asked him.

"I do not know, but it's the best we have. Besides, their footprints point west; west is the best hope we have."

Sif sighed heavily and scratched her forehead. "Alright."

* * *

#

* * *

**THEY **MOVED ON when morning came, packing their things up quickly and collapsing the cave which in itself was a small bit of childish fun. After eating each a handful of smoked meat and roasted roots, they started west, following the tracks of the jötunns from the night before. They walked silently that day, each of them looking for any other dangers that might present themselves.

The open plains slowly turned to more rocky areas as they progressed, the snows giving away to icy flats so they no longer needed their snowshoes and only needed the already spiked treads of their boots. The landscape was incredible; huge twists of ice looping and snaking their ways over the landscape; the distinctive hexagonal columns rising from the ground many metres into the air were another dominant feature. The cracked ground around these broken areas was difficult to transverse and, after failing to find their way around many chasms, had to carefully cross them. As such, they did not make much progress that day, and camped for the night under a huge arch of ice. They didn't dare to risk the fire, and instead huddled together under the many thick furs they themselves had brought and stolen from the jötunns.

Thor kept watch for half the night, and he heard creatures moving amongst the rocks and ice. All the while, he kept a tight grip on Mjøllnir as he watched animals leaping skilfully across the gaps and cracks after prey, huge birds launching from their nests to swoop amongst the ice and, once, a party of jötunn hunters he spotted three or four kilometres away. Jötunnheimr at night was dangerous and, he had to silently admit to himself as he burrowed into the furs, unsettled him greatly. And so it was with a sliver of relief he woke Volstagg for his watch.

He was chilled to the bone when he woke the next morning, his joints cracking and protesting as he stretched and shook himself to continue the hike. Jötunnheimr had, once more, blissfully fallen quiet during the day.

That day of travel was livelier than the one before, Fandral's stories and jokes lightening the mood greatly, but each of the company was reserved greatly, each painfully aware of their surroundings, each expecting to be jumped upon by fifty jötunns around the next bend.

But no matter what Fandral did to make the others laugh, Thor remained silent. He could almost _taste_ his victory in the air, as if some inner sense was telling him he was so close to finding his younger brother. And Thor swore to himself that when he did find him, he would make it up to him in every way he could possibly imagine; Loki of all people deserved it.

"Oh, how much furtherer?" Fandral groaned as they walked up an incline. The sun was setting once again, and everyone was looking forward to stopping for the night after a challenging day of hiking. Fandral stretched his back, sighing with relief as it cracked loudly.

"Norns, do not do that," Sif said. "You know I hate it when you do that."

"I must make a note of it to do it more often."

"But on the subject of how much further," Volstagg said, "I would tell you if the bloody maps were up to date, which they aren't."

"It can't be that much further, though," Fandral moaned. "I mean, if those animals of theirs were able to get back to their settlement in a day, then we can't be that much further away."

"Or we have been led in the wrong direction," Hogun put in darkly.

"Stop being such a thundercloud," Fandral said, eyeing the man darkly. "Right bucket of sunshine, aren't you?"

Thor had trudged away from his friends, ignoring their bickering. There was a rise just in front of him and he started to climb it, eager to get to the top to see where they were. It was difficult work, the ice making his progress slow as his boots slipped on the frictionless surface, despite their spiked treads. His hands were numb even through the thick gloves, and groping for rock handholds was a hard going job, especially when they loosened from their places to roll back down the slope. And so it was with ill-grace he topped the rise.

The setting sun blinded him, even through the snow visor and he threw up an arm to shield his eyes. Squinting, he could make out a gorge which split the ice in front of him; just a few more steps forward, and he would have fallen into it. But it wasn't what caught his attention.

Thor ducked down, crouching low and staring intently at the city that had risen suddenly in the distance. It was dark and foreboding, even in the fading daylight. The ancient walls were a crumbling mess, and what would have once been incredible workings of architecture were now smashed ruins. The temple with its solely remaining spire – the other one having fallen during their first visit – was overshadowed by the castle which was a dark wound against the sky.

"My friends!" he called back to them.

They made their way up to him, slipping and falling as they did so, but soon enough, all five of them were gazing intently at the city.

"And there is a sight I never thought I would be happy to see," Fandral said.

"As I too thought," Thor said. "My brother is in sight, my friends."

"So we are to storm the place, then?" Volstagg asked.

"No," Thor said. "We would be caught and killed before we even clapped eyes on Loki; Laufey's blood will still be boiling for a fight."

"Ah, damn," Fandral breathed. "It is not like we can disguise ourselves, either. But then, if we perhaps stood on each other's shoulders and painted ourselves blue and obtained voluminous cloaks, then maybe."

"We won't be going to Loki," Thor said quietly, "Loki will be coming to us."

"And just how-?"

Thor strode away, setting his feet apart and loosening Mjøllnir in his grip. Clouds began to boil in the skies and the warriors stepped back as one. Lighting crackled in the air as Thor held Mjøllnir high. His hair and the hair of the warriors was charged with static and Thor pulled the lightning down. It slammed into Mjøllnir, sparking against the uru and leaving a buzzing in his arm. It struck quickly, dissipating before Thor drew down the lightning again for another fast strike. The third he held for a second before dismissing that, too. It was a signalling method Loki was sure to recognise, that was, if he had seen it.

"Now what?" Volstagg asked, pulling his cloak further around himself.

Thor turned and walked back down the slope. "Now, we wait," he said simply. "Set up a camp; we could be here a while."

* * *

**I know it's short; there's only so much you can write about five people trudging for half a week through snow fields. And dammit, ThunderWar cockblock.**

**And we're back with the jotnar next chapter; I hope you're happy. I'm still undecided on whether to do a Loki POV or a Sigyn POV; I've written about 500 words for a Sigyn POV so far, but I just don't know... And on the subject of the next chapter, I want to update TRW before I update this; TRW has been waiting for a long time to be updated. It might be a while before the next update here; sorry~**

**All, I have reached a hundred pages in the Word Doc (at Calibri size 10 if anyone cares) and more than 82,000 words! Whoo! But about twenty pages of that is stuff written for later chapters, so haaaaaaaa...**

**—_aylithe_**


	12. Chapter Eleven: Stupidity

**Oh my Gosh, the contrast of responses for Thor chapters vs Loki chapters is, I find, really quite funny. Does everyone really hate Thor that much? I guess that means I'll just have to write more Thor chapters to show you guys how awesome he is, aha!**

**ANDTHELATESTEPISODEOFVIKINGSSOMEONEHOLDMEITHINKMYHEARTSTOPPEDWHENATHELSTANOHGODYEPTHEREGOESMYHEARTBRBSOBBING (and Athelstan is totally not my favourite character oh no nope...)**

**Guest Reviewer nim: I'm glad you like it!**

**And now, Sigyn POV.**

* * *

**_PART ONE _****– **ONCE

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

* * *

**THE PRINCE HAD** GATHERED AROUND HIM A HUSHED REVERENCE SINCE HIS FIRST HÓLMGANGA, something that was a tangible thickness in the air. Jötnar bowed their heads to him and averted their eyes, and Sigyn heard no whispers of doubt for his strength amongst the court as she had before. Loki had only been challenged once more, the night after his hólmganga with Herkir and he had defeated his opponent, another overconfident youth, within a span of three minutes without so much as a scratch to himself.

Sigyn had attended both hólmganga, and she had watched unblinkingly, flinching when he had been hurt in his first one and had screamed until her throat was raw when he had defeated Herkir mere seconds later.

But what she did hear were the whispers of derision.

"As I said, they are Æsir fighting techniques," Glut's friend, whose name she had found out was Griðr, had snorted as they left the colosseum after the second hólmganga.

"But you cannot say they are not winning his hólmgangas," Sigyn argued.

Griðr didn't reply to that, and Sigyn felt a sense of smug satisfaction overcome her.

With the end of the celebrations, it was time for the real competitions for not only Loki's attention, but the attention of the royal family to begin. It was nothing but tightly held traditions that held the fighting at bay for those nine nights. That, and a want for assessment of Loki's true worth, which he had now demonstrated and won most spectacularly. And from watching him, Sigyn's fascination with him had grown all the more. His fighting style was nothing like she had seen before; cold and calculating and devoid of the wildness she always saw at hólmgangas, mauvers and hits that could have only been drilled into him as a child. And in all honesty, Sigyn could see where Griðr's complaints came from: his fighting, whilst something of a level Sigyn had only dreamed of achieving, held no spirit; it held only hated duty.

And indeed, when Loki came to the hall fresh from his second hólmganga two or three hours after midnight, it was with an air of loathing. Sigyn's breath caught in her throat at the sight of him, and she flushed with embarrassment at the realisation. His hair had been washed from the limewater, rebound with its tyings and loose. The bandages on his shoulder had been changed. His fighting leathers had been replaced with his royal regalia, the metal shining from a fresh polishing and the furs light and clean. Behind him were the king and queen, they too wearing some of their finest things. Behind them strode the crown prince, his potiental mate Grýla upon his arm. Next to him was the youngest prince. There was a definite tension in the air betwixt the royal family, as if they had pushed Loki into the room. But, Sigyn thought as she stood in the line of sixty women, she wouldn't have been surprised if that had been the case outside the hall.

All sixty women bowed, their necks bent to the royal family as they strode in front of them. Sigyn didn't dare look up until there was a disgruntled "Rísa" from Loki.

Sigyn straightened up smoothly, hands clasped behind her back and her hair over of her shoulder. Compared to many of the jötnar alongside her, Sigyn looked plain, even though she had donned her best articles of clothing. She wore about her shoulders snow fox fur, the white drawing attention to her face. Her belt she wore high on her hips, the furs stretching along the tops of her legs to fall down her front past her knees. Her hair was woven with her own icy crystals and around her neck was a choker of gold. Bracelets clinked on her wrists every time she moved. Her eyelashes had been darkened and her house lines accentuated. She had had the castle servants help prepare her – as the women had been invited to stay in the rooms there – and she looked radiant for it.

But it was nothing compared to what others wore. Some wore gold and precious jewels from throat to ankle; some had woven bells into their hair and some had wrapped themselves in lush feathers and furs; some even wore almost nothing, their only adornments jewels and pelts which, when posed in certain ways, left not much to the imagination; some left their breasts free for inspection; and some wore paint in swirling patterns over their bodies.

And it left Sigyn looking exactly what she was: a member of a low noble house.

"My lords and my queen," a herald said, sweeping in front of the women and spreading his arms wide to indicate them, "these jötnar have proved their strengths and their blood as suitable matches for His Grace Prince Loki Laufeyson. Each has proven that they have remained chaste over at least the past half year. Each has proved they are loyal to the crown. Each has expressed their desire to be the love of Prince Loki." Turning to Loki, the herald said, "Is this pleasing to you, lord?"

Loki hesitated for half a second but, upon catching his sire's eye, gave a stiff nod. Sigyn's breathing faltered at his obvious hatred for the situation. And his unwillingness would make his attention all that harder to gain. She kept her face straight, unbetraying of her sudden thoughts of despair.

"May I present the top ten candidates to vie for his lordship's attentions—"

Glut was one of the candidates, and Sigyn flashed her a smile as she and the nine others – all from high noble houses – strode to the front of the room when their names were announced by the herald. "Geysa, third born of House Fyrnir; Bryja, first born of House Fjolvor; Skaði, first born of House Thajzi; Haera, seventh born of House Hloi; Glut, fourth born of House Fornjótr; Jarnvidja, ninth born of House Hyndla—"

All the while the names were being recited, Sigyn's eyes were fixed unblinkingly upon Loki, looking for any hints as to what he was thinking. But all she saw was his hate. No sparks of interest, no nothing; in fact, for most of the presentation of the strongest ten, he was looking at the back wall. He blinked when they had all lined up and he said lowly, "Let me see the others."

Sigyn held her hands behind her back as the other fifty women stirred; evidently they had not been expecting the words, had expected Loki to take interest in only the strongest amongst their number as Býleistr had done, and watch for them especially during the hólmgangas to come.

Loki rose from his seat and walked down the dais. His dark horns towered above them, the gold bands upon them catching the light as he came in front of the crowd. He was scowling heavily at them, and Sigyn shifted her feet, but she refused to lower her eyes; strength was more important now than ever.

"Why?"

The single word cracked through the silence like broken ice and Sigyn tensed. The derision behind Loki's voice was like acid, and she saw a particularly young girl to her left, who had to be no older than nine hundred years, cringe. From the corner of her eye, she saw Laufey's hands tighten in the arms of his throne.

"Strength." Sigyn hadn't realised it was she that had spoken until sixty-five pairs of eyes were suddenly upon her. She froze, hand twitching towards her mouth as she realised what had happened, but she forced it to stay where it was. The jötnar were expectant of her, so she felt as if she had to keep going. "Beauty … and a bright future, my lord."

Loki looked incredulously at her. He padded to her, and the crowd blocking his way parting silently until Sigyn stood alone. She locked her knees and her spine to keep the trembles from her as much as possible; she thought she did a fairly good job of it.

_I am not weak._

Loki came within an inch of her and looked at her through narrowed eyes. Sigyn swallowed, breathing as calmly as she could through her nose and, as she did so, she could not help but notice his heady musk, an electrical charge of his magic. He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. Sigyn went limp, and she stared into his eyes, scraping together every last piece of courage she could. His grip on her jaw was tight, and she would have been unsurprised if he left bruises.

"And who are you as to speak so boldly?" Loki breathed.

"Lady Sigyn," she replied tonelessly, "third born to House Bláin, my lord."

"Are you brave or stupid to speak to me like that?"

"Sometimes bravery requires stupidity, my lord."

"I recognise you," Loki said so lowly she was sure no one else could hear after a few heartbeats. "At the last feast, you sat opposite me. I remember you to be shier."

Sigyn's heart had stopped. He'd _remembered_ her? Sweetest Oblivion, take her now…. "I can be bold when I so wish," Sigyn said, "my lord."

Loki snorted and released her. She stood her ground, meeting his hard eyes. Something shifted within them as he looked her up and down. "I was taught there were three ways to rule a kingdom," Loki said. "Through fear, through respect, and through love. What do you see in me, Sigyn? Which quality do I possess to your eyes which gave you the nerve to call out?"

"Hope," she said. "I hope that you can be great, my lord."

Loki drew his lip back in warning and Sigyn shifted her weight; what had she done wrong? She _had_ been too bold, that had to be it. But it wasn't anger she saw in his eyes; it was some twisted emotion of hate and sorrow that caught her heart. She wanted to apologise for whatever she had done, but she was so unsure as to what his reaction would be it held her fast. And she wondered what he would do to her.

But all Loki did was turn away, his breathing calm and even as he set his eyes fixedly on the dais which he once again climbed. He sat himself down upon his high-baked stone throne, his expression brooding. But once again, all eyes were on Sigyn and it was now she felt their weight on her, closing in and crashing upon her shoulders. She strode forward to the throne, bowed low and muttered, "My king; my queen; my princes; please excuse my brash actions; I must take my leave." She then exited the hall. Once out of view of the guards, she sunk against a wall, hers to her mouth and the dull thought of, _Oblivion, what have I done?_ echoing through her.

* * *

#

* * *

**"YOU** DID _WHAT_?" Alfarin spluttered.

"I already told you," Sigyn said with a deep breath. "I spoke out to Loki." It was well past dawn, and two of Sigyn's five siblings had come to see her in her rooms at the castle when she had notified them of what had happened. Their father was on the way, their mother forced to stay home to look after their youngest newborn sibling, but Sigyn had promised to visit her soon; she knew her mother hated not seeing her.

"And what was his reaction?" Alfarin continued insistently. "What were the other womens' reactions?!"

"By Oblivion, what do you think? I think you're smart enough to have an educated guess: they were as shocked as I was."

"You've made yourself a target," Alfarin said angrily. "Where has our strategy gone that we spent _hours_ developing? Did you just think 'Oh, I know exactly what to do to make him notice me!' and do it before the competition had become narrower?"

"I don't know what I was thinking!" Sigyn yelled. "Shouting at me about it won't change anything, brother!"

"He's right," her sister Skaerir said. "What you've done is caught the prince's attention, and the others are not fools to miss it. You're dangerous to their cause, and so what will they do? Remove the danger."

"Do you not think I know what my actions have caused?" Sigyn said, bristling. "I am not an idiot, Skaerir."

"You have all the reason to make me think you are," she replied coolly.

"You've put a target on your back," Alfarin agreed.

"Oh—really?" Sigyn bit out. "Thank you for telling your idiot sister of what she is already well aware of."

"I'm telling you because I do not wish to see you get hurt," Alfarin said in frustration.

"'Hurt'?" Sigyn laughed. "I was going to get hurt no matter what when I went for this: physically hurt, emotionally hurt, because what chance did I ever have of winning the prince's affections? We're the lowest of noble-born, and there are houses that are vying for Prince Loki's attentions that have been strong for _millennia_. We are the first generation of our parents' names born into this position; we have not the strength; we have not the experience."

"You think so lowly of us; of yourself?" Skaerir said, raising an eyebrow.

Sigyn looked to her eldest sister stonily. "Wouldn't you?"

"Sigyn, after failing to reach the shortlist, and then seeing you place, don't you dare say that about yourself. You have the chance of a lifetime, one that I will never get again."

"It would have been better on myself if I had failed as well," Sigyn whispered, "because then I would never have had the hope I could actually succeed. I made myself the most detested person in the room because my tongue slipped. I—"

The doors opened and the three of them looked around sharply as their father entered.

"Sire!" Sigyn exclaimed. Her aloofness for the situation seemed to evaporate as she folded herself in the arms of her sire a sudden tremble wracking her body.

"Oh, Sigyn," he murmured. "What has happened?"

"She has given herself a death sentence, that is what," Skaerir snorted. "If not by hólmganga, then by the royal family for speaking so brashly to their prince."

"Sigyn, tell me everything," Bláin said.

Sigyn took herself away from Bláin arms, sat down on one of three stools in the room and told the story to her sire in a low voice.

"It just _happened_," she said, a note of pleading in her voice, and pleading for her sire to _understand_.

But there was no anger in her father's eyes, only a look of thoughtfulness as he turned the situation over in his mind. "Loki did nothing to you?" he asked quietly.

"He bruised her face," Alfarin put in.

"_Beyond_ that," Bláin said with a hint of impatience towards his eldest son.

Sigyn shook her head. "No threats of punishment, no physical punishment then and there; he was just as shocked as I was to be perfectly honest."

"Thank Oblivion," Bláin muttered. "If you haven't elicited a reaction in that moment, you're very likely to be left alone by him."

Sigyn sagged with relief.

"But the hólmgangas," Skaerir interjected, "what about those?"

A thought crossed Sigyn's mind that made her shudder. "What if he's withholding punishment because he wishes to see me humiliated in front of everyone by losing?"

"Unlikely," Bláin said, "because there is always to risk you would win."

"I can't win!" Sigyn cried. "Sire, my skills are not enough to defeat so many! The higher houses—"

"Those jötnar of the higher houses won't be challenging you tomorrow night," Bláin said soothingly. "That is where our status comes into it; you, to them, are nothing but an irritation that needs scratching and they will rely on someone else to defeat you. You're too insignificant to bother with. They also won't strike because if they did challenge you first, it would reflect back onto them as cowardly to pick fights with the weakest of contenders. No, they will be fighting last. And Sigyn—" Bláin took her face gently in his hands, fingers ghosting over the bruises Loki had left her with "—when you get to those final stages, you will have a reputation, and then you stand an even greater chance of Prince Loki having you. What you have done tonight is wonderful – provided you win. No one else can do what you've done, because you've already done it." He kissed her forehead.

And it was that simple action that caused Sigyn to come undone. She hugged her father, all pretence between them falling away and whispered, "I'm scared, sire."

"I would be surprised if you weren't," he told her.

Alfarin looked confused. "Sire, she has doomed herself."

"My son, always the pessimist," Bláin chuckled darkly. "Have faith in your sister; she is strong."

* * *

#

* * *

**SKAERIR** STAYED THAT day after she had persuaded the steward that it was best for her sister. "You need someone to help prepare you," she had said when Sigyn had objected to this development.

"Prepared for what?" she asked, a pang of unease fluttering through her.

"You need to keep an image, my dearest, idiotic sister," Skaerir said, a hint of mischievous intent in her eye. "And since we've now made ourselves a new battle-plan, I'll be here to make sure you _don't_ change it this time around."

It was a tone Skaerir took when she was serious, and Sigyn didn't have many fond memories of it; it had usually ended with her and Skaerir wrestling in the snow during a time when her greater strength and size as the older sibling was a commodity.

But Skaerir was working with Sigyn now, and as she had lain back upon the bed and Skaerir eased her chin up, Sigyn had pushed her dreads away; this was her sister, and now all she wanted was to bolster Sigyn as best she could; for her benefit.

"What if everything goes wrong?" Sigyn's voice was small, almost lost to Skaerir who stopped in her work at once. "What if everything goes the other way? What if we were wrong about how everyone reacts tonight?"

Skaerir shook her head. "It's a game of prediction, Sigyn," she said. "These predictions we arrive at through logical sounding out, and so the day these things are not true will be the day Yggdrasil falls. Take comfort, my sister; everything will be alright." Skaerir went back to her work, soothing promises upon her lips that made Sigyn's mind ease. "You won't be ignored by a single soul, even by Prince Loki, and that in itself will stimulate fighting; I'll make sure of it."

And so, that was why, when Sigyn came to the court room after the larger dealings of the realm were over, she looked radiant. A hush settled over the crowd when Sigyn stepped forth and she lifted her chin, looking straight ahead as she strode into the room. Her hair was bound into a knot atop her head, shorter valravn feathers stuck into it and the shimmering colours of the feathers' coating oil flashed in the light. A shawl made of the palest of silks trailed from her shoulders and onto the floor behind her; something that had been her mother's and was hastily repaired by Skaerir all throughout that day. Gold armlets encircled her upper arms, and images of dragons had been carefully made of looped gold and crawled around her wrists. Around her neck was a choker of gold – this borrowed from a family friend – and twisting cuffs of sea serpents curled around her ears. Skaerir was the one who had all the artistic skill in their house, and she had painted in gold a swirling urnes knot upon her side, stretching from ankle to jawline. She had chewed what felt to her at least five hvítr sticks and, as a result, her teeth were blindingly white. Her house lines were a pale blue against her skin. Her claws were sharpened and blackened.

She would have usually protested to being trussed up as she was, but, now that she had every eye in the room, she finally understood for herself the power of her image as Skaerir had insisted she would have. She _did_ feel more powerful, and she felt the danger she presented all the more. And it made her proud, proud that a woman such as herself, barely past her thousandth year, had caused such a stir within these social politics.

Sigyn flicked her eyes around the room, and she noted with delight that Imðr's expression was seething.

_And you dared call me weak_, Sigyn thought viciously. _Look at my strength now; look at the attention I command._

Sigyn smirked and then found Glut's eye. Her face was curiously blank but, when she found Sigyn looking to her, gave a small smile of approval. Sigyn had difficulty not smiling back; she had to remain stoic.

"Lady Sigyn," the same herald from yesternight said at her arrival, bowing low.

Sigyn nodded before she swept past him as gracefully as she could, silk fluttering behind her and her head held high.

"You look beautiful," Griðr said with a grunt as Sigyn drew up next to her.

"Thank you," Sigyn replied in a clipped voice.

The volume in the room slowly rose as people went back to their conversations, and Sigyn had no trouble distinguishing what many were about; the continuous head turns her way told her that much. Sigyn turned to Griðr and struck up a very forced conversation about who would be likely to fight in hólmganga first; she was not mentioned by name in the conversation.

"It's always the same," Griðr said. "The weaker to middle houses will fight each other, and some fools will even try to defeat those in the higher classes, but we all know how _that_ works out."

"Humiliation," Glaum said gravelly.

"As they so rightly deserve for their arrogance." Sigyn could not help but see Griðr's eyes stray towards her.

Sigyn bristled. "There will be a break in the pattern somewhere in the future; that is the nature of such things. Unpredictability is a fickle thing."

"And when do you think that will happen?" Griðr bit out. "Soon, perhaps?"

Sigyn turned to her. "One can only hope," she said, her voice so icy Glaum shuffled her feet in discomfort. "Open minds are good in things such as these; closed minds often suffer within the political atmosphere, _Griðr_."

The conversation was cut off when the herald announced the royal family. They strode in as one, and everyone bowed their heads in respect. Sigyn peeked up before they were told to rise and saw Loki scanning the crowd, but what he was looking for, Sigyn could only hope. She took a deep breath when she straightened up at Laufey's instruction, expecting now to be jumped on.

And she was not to be disappointed.

Merely seconds after the House of Laufey had sat themselves down, a jötunn approached Sigyn determinedly, already a spike of ice formed in her hand. "I challenge you to hólmganga, Sigyn Bláinsdóttir," she hissed, throwing the spike at Sigyn's feet.

Sigyn smiled poisonously. "If you so wish," she said, and she found herself to be quite calm. This woman was of a middling noble class, the complexity of her scars told her that much. But there was an air of inexperience about her, as if she had not fought much, and Sigyn almost wished for a more seasoned fighter to have challenged her first. But, she thought to herself, this would be an easy way to slide into the hólmgangas if her suspicions were correct.

"I do wish so," the jötunn replied.

Turning to the king, Sigyn asked, "Is this permission granted?"

Laufey's claws were sharp sounds on his throne as he drummed his fingers. "Of course," he said smoothly. "And to my son?"

Loki only nodded, his arms folded, but his eyes were upon Sigyn. The unbidden image of him and her together, an image that had been within her dreams since she had first seen him at the celebrations, once again popped into her mind, and Sigyn held to it. She could make her dream a reality. She was strong.

* * *

#

* * *

**"VEGA!"**

Sigyn charged forth, her shoulder braced for the impact of her opponent, Vind. They crashed together and Sigyn snarled in pain. She dug her heels into the ground, gripped Vind's shoulders and threw her away. Vind rolled back onto her feet after she fell away, spinning around and stalking Sigyn in a circle warily. Sigyn only waited, crouching low and her muscles loose as she joined Vind in her circling. She was deaf to the screams and roars of the jötnar watching, and she didn't dare sneak a glance to the royal box; Vind would take any and every opportunity to defeat her.

And so Sigyn paced, and she waited.

Eventually, Vind lost her patience. She struck at Sigyn, and Sigyn leant away, barely avoiding the claws so intent on renting her flesh and she brought her own claws around, aiming for Vind's eyes. Vind's other arm came up, shielding her face and she hissed in pain when Sigyn's claws dug into her flesh, ripping four straight lines upon the forearm. Vind brought her knee into Sigyn's stomach and Sigyn yelped. Her teeth closed on her tongue and she keeled away, spitting out the blood and her eyes watering in pain. She was gasping for air as she straightened up, and she knew there would be a very painful bruise there by the dawn.

Vind was clutching at her arm and Sigyn, gritting her teeth, reengaged in the fight. She struck with her foot at one of Vind's knees, but Vind jumped away and brought her fist across Sigyn's face. Her head snapped back and Sigyn rolled with the blow, whirling in a small circle as she attempted to regain her balance. She grabbed for Vind's hair, and her fingers snagged the jötunn's plait. She wrenched her arm away, the pins flying across the ice and Vind screeched in pain as Sigyn's claws raked her scalp and her hair was tugged upon.

Sigyn ran forwards, raining blows upon Vind which she parried with increasing difficultly, wincing and cringing every time Sigyn's blows fell upon her injured arm. But Sigyn had to defend herself as well. Vind was one who used her knees and feet in fights, attempted to sweep her own feet from under her and finish her when she was down, but Sigyn was light on her feet, constantly moving them. Sigyn pressed on Vind, forcing her back and Vind had no time to kick out at her.

_I will_ win.

Sigyn caught both of Vind's hands within her own and shoved her away. Vind stumbled and Sigyn brought her leg up, kicking the jötunn in the face and there was a scream as Vind's nose broke under her heel. Blood splattered the floor and the jötnar howled with approval as Vind fell to the ground, cursing and backing away as Sigyn advanced on her.

Sigyn went for her throat with her hand, one foot pining her hand down next to her, knee pressed on the other one upon her chest and her toes painfully digging into Vind's gut. "Veita," Sigyn said lowly. Her claws tightened, and blood welled at Vind's throat.

"Veita! Veita! Líka, ek veita!"

The cry of "Jafnmenni!" echoed through the colosseum and Sigyn stood, a flash of triumph burning across her face as she looked to the screaming crowds of jötnar, stamping and clapping in approval. Sigyn felt powerful, and she scoffed at herself for feeling so much doubt earlier.

_I am strong, and I can win._

She found the eyes of the fifty-eight other contenders and inwardly whooped with delight at their seething expressions. Some were blank, some were uncaring, and some were so venomous Sigyn felt a slither of nervousness overcome her. But she had the blood of her opponent upon her, they did not. She had claimed victory, an all they did was sit in their stands and sneer at her.

And finally, finally, she turned to the royal box. Laufey was looking at her, but neither his expression nor his body language gave away any thought in his mind. His chin was upon his hand, and he seemed to be studying her. For what? The queen's expression was a little more open, for she smiled down upon Sigyn, but beyond that, she was guarded. Did they approve of her? Were they surprised that someone of such a low noble house had managed to defeat someone of a higher house? The most open of them was the youngest prince, Helblindi, who was clinging to the rail and yelling along with the other jötnar in the crowd, his eyes alight with excitement. The crown prince Býleistr wasn't looking at her, more interested in playing with his intended mate's hair, but she was pleased to see Grýla was at least trying to get him to focus his attention upon Sigyn.

But Loki … he looked uncaringly at her, legs crossed and, when her eyes met his, he slid them down to his claws, picking at them with far more attention focused on them than her. Sigyn's smile faltered somewhat. Was it a façade of his? Or did he truly think nothing of her?

_You stupid girl, he is a prince, a prince far more interested in those of higher birth than you. Those that are stronger than you._

But his words floated back to her: _"I remember you."_

And then a more prevalent fear entered her mind: he was Æsir by thought. This, all of this, was nothing but a formality he had to sit through. And if she did win, what would he do?

Sigyn looked to Vind who was getting shakily to her feet. Once she was up, Sigyn gave a stiff bow and walked from the colosseum, her heart only growing heavier, and the distant booming voice of thunder seemed as ominous as her thoughts.

* * *

**I think it's by high time I got myself a beta reader. So ... if anyone is interested in betaing, please shoot me a PM. By betaing, I would strongly prefer it to not be only typo correction; I want feedback, actual proper feedback of "This doesn't work because of X Y and Z reasons; try this instead". I don't want a constant arse kissing of "This is absolute perfection" as I have had many times in the past when I had beta readers for _Empire_. My writing is far from perfect, but I would like to get as close to it as possible, and the best way I improve is through proper feedback.**

**And yes, the next chapter is a Loki POV; patience has its rewards, dearest Loki lovers, as the next chapter I have been absolutely _dying_ to write and post. It will be longer, and, as such, may take a while to get out. And also because I have exams from the 31st March to 8th April. And I need to read _Dreams of Gods and Monsters_ as I have been dying for this book since 2012. Laini Taylor do not rip my heart to pieces, mkay? And don't have a rubbish ending please please please. But on the upside, 8th April is also the day my holidays start, so woohoo!**

_**—aylithe**_


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